Shades of Gray
by Puxinette
Summary: A/U. Continues Maeren's life, twelve years after Full Circle.  She's the Warden in the Houses of Healing in Edoras and finds herself in another very sketchy predicament, only this time, she's in deep with an Elf.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien._

"Mother! Why did you call me?" Leofa shouted. "I've not got time to waste answering needless calls."

I cringed as the door slammed.

"I called because I am your mother and you are my son. I need no other reason than that, young man. You come when I call. That is how it is."

It seems we were caught up in another shouting match, my son and I. Well, I was not shouting yet, but it was only a matter of time if this argument went like most of the others. I liked it not at all, but what is a mother to do when her son raises his voice at her, but raise hers right back after a while?

"Do not shout, son," I continued. "Shouting only gets everyone angry—it usually does not get you what you want." How many times had I said these exact same words? Leofa was not stupid, but he could not seem to get this lesson, at least when it was presented by me.

I watched him as he collected himself, trying to appease me, I suppose. My son was growing tall. As it is he is as tall as I am already. His hair has darkened, and while it isn't as dark as Aragorn's, it is no longer the golden red of mine, either. His eyes set in an oval face are the unmistakable gray of his father's and his square chin has a cleft in it. So like Aragorn. The King of Gondor had never been able to deny his son, but it was becoming clearer with each passing month exactly who Leofa's sire was if anyone cared to look closely.

"I would not shout, Mother," he said in a quieter tone, "but you seem to not hear me if I use a normal voice."

"I am listening, son."

"I started not to come at all when I heard you calling me," he said defiantly. "I do not recognize 'Leofa' as my name, Mother. Uncle Haedren calls me Leo. So does my father, as I asked him to. Even Grandfather did! Why can you not grant me this one thing?"

I felt a pang in my heart at the mention of Elrond. He'd not sailed West all those years ago when he'd first set out to, but he waited until Galadriel was ready to depart before he'd left the shores at the Grey Havens. Leofa was ten when he'd said his goodbyes to the one person he adored more than any other.

"You were named for—" I began, for possibly the hundredth time.

"—the eleventh King of Rohan!" Leofa finished for me in a sarcastic tone with a fierce roll of his eyes. "I know that _Mother_, but I would allow that even King Leofa's mother called him Leo did he ask it of her."

"Do not get fresh with me," I began again. But Leofa was beyond hearing me any more.

"I have no time for needless bantering, Mother. Uncle Haedren expects me. I will be in his barn should you _really_ have need of me, for other than miss-calling me!" He slammed out of the house, without even knowing what I had called him in for.

And thus my son and I would more than likely spend another evening apart. I'd 'miss-called' him in the first place because he had a message from his father—Elessar—the King of Gondor. It had been delivered to me as I worked in the Houses of Healing in Edoras. The missive was still in my pocket, not presented and not read.

Leofa probably would not even return home tonight. Perhaps not even tomorrow. My brother would send him home in another day or two out of pity for me, I suppose. Haedren was Leofa's anchor, when Leofa was not in Gondor with his father or when neither of the twin sons of Elrond were about. And while none of them would sanction Leofa's impertinence to me, they could talk to him so that he would listen. Would that I had been granted such a gift. I wondered—not for the first time—if Tristin had lived, would we have tread the same rocky ground as his brother and I did now. I somehow think not.

When I had first arrived back in Rohan after Leofa's birth, it did not take long for my brothers—especially Haedren and Dirhael—to point out to me the error of my ways in sheltering my son. They'd whisk him away with no notice, saying they had manly things to teach him—and I'd ask what manly sorts of things did one teach a toddler? They told me to never mind, they were just seeing to his proper upbringing, since his father was no where about. It took not long for me to get their message: I was hovering, and sooner or later I would have a pansy-prancing boy-child at my heels did they not see to it that I did not!

It had been twelve years since I had brought my son home to Rohan, after birthing him in Imladris. Leofa's thirteenth birthday had been the month before this past Yule. I am now forty-two—and feeling every year of it today.

I'd spent a most harrowing day in the wards. There had been a fire in the smithy right after noon, but thankfully, it had not burned to the ground nor spread to any of the barns. The farrier was the only one hurt, but he was hurt grievously. He would not live.

Yet I had spent all afternoon tending to him, trying to ease not only his pain but also his labored breathing. The smell of his burned flesh and hair left me wanting to retch, but I'd had no time to do even that, and I finally got used to it—if one could get used to such a thing.

The memories the burned man brought with him had me numb for now. Structures on fire, in which people or animals had burned, tainting the air with their acrid scent, left me cold. I suppose I would lose whatever composure I had later, after I'd watched the farrier breathe his last. His death was inevitable. He was one, huge raw wound, and one did not survive being burned in such a way.

I'd bathed his charred limbs in the coolest water I had, and then had slathered him with honey to kill the chance of infection. But he was burned so badly over most of his body, he would not be alive through the night. His gasping breaths would cease before long. I would fail in my care of him, even though I'd done the best that I could. And I would go back to the Healing Halls in a few moments to take up my care of him again. I'd needed a break and had only come home to give Leofa this message. I had failed in that also.

I was now the Warden in the Houses of Healing in Edoras. Lord Keodwen had welcomed me back when I'd returned from Imladris. I was astounded when the story explaining my absence, and subsequent return with an infant, reached my ears, and I'd not even uttered a word! It seems that Eomer, along with my brothers, had conjured up a dead husband for me after all! I'd not had to do it. I just had to go along with it. And what else would I do—gainsay the King? Hardly. I only hoped that chance or fate or whatever one might wish to call it, did not rear its ugly head one day, and bring someone here from Gondor who knew the truth. Then we would all be shown as false. So far fate had not turned its back on us.

Since my return I had worked with Lord Keodwen as his chief aide for five years, until he had died in my arms one day. He went doing what he loved most—healing the people under his care. That fateful day, Lord Keodwen and I were in the wards tending a man with an arrow wound, which he'd taken by accident while he hunted with friends.

Lord Keodwen had just bandaged the man, when he looked at me strangely and asked to sit down. I brought him a chair and he sat. In my worry for him, I'd squatted in front of him, and he slumped right over and died on me. Literally. So five years ago, I fell into the position of Warden in Edoras' Houses of Healing. Or perhaps I should say it fell into my lap.

I pulled the missive for Leofa from the pocket of my apron. How my fingers itched to break that seal! For years I was privy to what the King of Gondor wrote to his son—I was the one who knew how to read! But I'd made the mistake of teaching Leofa, and a couple of years ago he quit telling me what was in Aragorn's letters at all. And when he was in Gondor, which at this point was for three months of each year—just before and just after Yule—Aragorn saw to his education there. Unless this was an invitation to Gondor, I would not know what it said. Leofa would tell me if his father asked for his presence immediately upon reading it, if it did indeed contain a request for my son's attendance.

I did not deceive myself in thinking that Leofa loved living in Rohan even a fraction of the amount he loved being in Gondor. The two of us lived simply, and Leofa was just another of the local boys while dwelling in Edoras. But in Gondor he lived in the Citadel—right alongside royalty. Our royalty in Rohan—King Eomer and his lovely Queen Lothiriel and their son Elfwine—lived much more simply than their counterparts in Gondor, and Leofa perceived that and held them if not in disdain, then not in the proper respect that he should have done. I'd certainly noticed. I could only hope that Eomer was not wise to my son.

I received regular messages from Gondor myself. Arwen—the beautiful Queen whom I had truly grown to love over the years—would keep me informed of her life and life in general in Gondor, as well as send news of her brothers and Haldan. Yes, my fellow healer Haldan from Imladris' Healing Halls, the Elf who had sworn his life to Elrond's family, had not weathered well the scare we'd had with Elladan and Elrohir, when separating them almost ended their lives. Haldan opted to sail at a later date and keep his watch over the sons of Elrond, as well as on Arwen and Aragorn.

Elrond, along with Elladan, Elrohir and Haldan, had been here in Edoras one last time before Elrond would sail, when Haldan had made this announcement. The look on Elrond's face when Haldan broke the news to us all was one of complete relief; as if Elrond knew that the members of his family that he was leaving behind would now be fine, since he'd left a consummate healer in his stead to see after them.

Arwen and Aragorn had become parents when Leofa was not quite two years old. Eldarion they named their son. From the moment Leofa and Eldarion saw each other as children of two and three, they had become fast friends, as well as half brothers. Arwen had delivered four daughters to the King as well! Ellerrina, Laurelin, Idril and Melyanna. Arwen's arms and heart were full, as she'd wished so long ago before any of them were born.

My wonderful Dwarven friend Gimli had brought some of his kin from Erebor, and together they'd settled within the glittering depths of Aglarond. Those in Rohan knew Gimli by sight, and they had bestowed upon him a new name: The Lord of the Glittering Caves. It mattered not that he was a Dwarf and not Rohirric. His love of the caverns and of all that was Rohan, was all my people had to know to allow him this title—and name the caves of Helm's Deep as Gimli's own.

He kept himself busy with commissions from Gondor and other realms, as well as from Rohan. He'd rebuilt the gates of Minas Tirith—had forged them in Aglarond of mithril and steel. But Gimli was ever busy, and with his tasks taking him to Gondor and Ithilien, where Legolas dwelt, we rarely saw each other. Yet we are fast friends, and I love him dearly. And whenever we do meet, we always start out in our visit in exactly the place we left off before.

All my brothers had wives and children of their own, although Small Saedren's wife had died in childbirth two years past. Saedren had waited until he was well into his forties to wed at all, and he and Aundra had only been married a very short while when the news of impending parenthood came. Aundra had not lived through the birth, although the child had. But Saedren had not been the same since the death of his wife, and as I attended the birth, he blamed me for Aundra's fate.

I grieved over the loss of Saedren, but what could I do? He would not see reason—even trained healers could not do miracles, when miracles it would take to see someone through the devastation Aundra had seen.

Haedren, Haeleth and Dirhael had each tried to convince Saedren to see reason. But my brothers' wives had birthed many children among them, and none had ever had any trouble. I'd delivered some of those children, but not all. Haedren and Dirhael had been married long before I even left Edoras and Lord Keodwen had overseen the births of their children while he was alive. Would that he had been here for poor Aundra, but I knew in my heart that he would not have made the difference in life or death for her. Yet if Lord Keodwen had attended the birth of Aundra's son, then he would have drawn Saedren's ire—not me. Selfish of me to think thoughts like these, but I missed my brother's presence in my life. If only I could make Saedren see that when childbirth goes ill, it can go fatally ill. I had as of yet been unable to convince him of that.

I was hungry, so I got bread and cheese out of my cupboard and sliced myself portions of each. I took my plate to the table near the stove and sat for the few minutes it would take to eat. I'd not been hungry earlier. In fact, the opposite. I thought I might have taken ill from a stomach sickness that was going around the population, but as the day wore on I'd begun to feel better. At least as well as one can feel, when the nose is assaulted by the stink of burned flesh.

As I sat there eating my small meal, my daydreams turned romantic. Elladan. Who else? He usually visited us every chance he got. I would be lying did I not say how much I looked forward to him darkening my doorway again soon. Sometimes he would bring Elrohir or Haldan with him, but like as not, he would be alone.

The rogue had finally succeeded in charming his way into my bed. It took him almost two years, but he did succeed. Against my better judgment, I'd let him seduce me one Yule.

I'd been back in Rohan for eighteen months, when Aragorn wrote asking that Leofa be allowed to visit him once a year—beginning the month before Yule and ending the month after. The letter had been delivered a couple of months prior to the dreaded visit, so I had plenty of time to become accustomed to the idea. But I could not imagine letting my baby leave me for three whole months.

Leofa was only two at the time—well, practically three, but only a baby for sure—and I was beside myself with grief and worry. We lived so far from Gondor; anything could happen on the trip. And what if he could not become comfortable with Aragorn and Arwen in Minas Tirith? What if he cried for me—needed me? And then my selfish nature took hold. Suppose my son did not know me when he returned? He was very small and three months was almost a lifetime to a little child. The thought of him feeling abandoned by me and refusing my arms when the visit with his father was over was another source of concern for me.

Yet when Elladan, Elrohir and Haldan had come to Rohan to fetch Leofa back to Aragorn, I could do nothing but let my son go. It was the hardest thing I'd had to do since his birth. Haldan could not stand to see my pain as they prepared to ride away with my son—my Leofa. I think Haldan believed I might become ill with the grief of it all; he was a true friend to me and watching me become more and more bereft was more than he could bear. Haldan volunteered to stay behind, to see to me.

But Elladan insisted a healer might be more needed on the journey, if accident or illness struck their charge. While he and Elrohir had assisted their father in the healing halls of Imladris, they were nowhere near the experienced healers that Haldan was. So Haldan had ridden off with Elrohir and Leofa, and Elladan had stayed behind to comfort me. And comfort me he had.

I had insisted that the rules I'd set back in the garden in the Citadel be adhered to—no falling in love would be allowed between us. Elladan had agreed and the tryst was made. As our relationship strengthened, I had to fight myself to not declare my love for him, but I had made the rules, after all. I kept to my part of our bargain—I never spoke of love.

Yet one night, six years into our liaisons, just before the heat of his passion was spent, Elladan had murmured my name and whispered how much he loved me. I think he did not even know that he'd spoken aloud until I stopped him that instant. He was mightily unhappy over that. I questioned him about what he'd just said.

He admitted he'd never stopped loving me. He then told me that I was testing his temper and to quit the questions and let him resume where he'd left off. The whole time I questioned him, he was kissing my neck and nipping my chin softly with his teeth. I did quit my interrogation, out of selfishness in the end, but rest assured, he heard loud and long from me the next morning.

I knew the wisdom of stopping our affair right then, but I could not give him up had my life depended on it. I loved him, and I loved our meager time together. He spent a month—more or less, depending on the circumstances—each Yule with me, but precious few were the other moments we could be together. We saw each other perhaps twice or thrice more during any given year, but some years, it was less.

After that, he told me of his love of me every time we were together. But I would not let him make an honest woman of me. He'd asked me countless times to bond with him, but I'd refuse. So when he was in Rohan, he came and went from my bed during the wee hours most of all. That is not to say that he did not come overtly at times to my home—he loved Leofa—and that was no secret to anyone. So he was a figure in my life when he visited Rohan, but to others on the outside—and also to Leofa—it seemed to be to my son that the Elves were coming to call.

He had accomplished nudging my complete and total love of Dustin to a part of my heart that I could finally close away. Elladan took up most of my heart now. I would never tell him that, though. I still held to the promise I'd made to Elrond, that I would never be the cause of his son's choice to be Human—if that is what he ever chose. As long as we were not wed, I believed, he would not be making that decision. Elladan never spoke of the Peredhil choice, so I did not. And I never told him of my love of him.

I had told him once, in one of the gardens of the Citadel, yet I'd never repeated it, although when he held me in his arms on precious nights I longed to. As he held me close, he'd tell me I was the love of his life, but I could not return the endearment. He was beautiful and Elven, and I would not be a part of condemning him to death by having him choose a Mortal life. Elves were the light of Arda—I could never be responsible in any way for extinguishing that.

I gathered the dish I'd used to make my small supper and took it to the sink by the stove. I would not stop to wash it right now because I needed water. I would deal with drawing more water later. Perhaps tomorrow. _Why had Leofa not seen to it?_

I dropped my hands to my sides and in so doing, brushed the pocket containing Aragorn's letter. It was probably another invitation to visit in Gondor, even though Leofa was only back in Rohan two months as it was. It was just as well. Leofa loved me, I was sure of that, but we did not get along right now. I wished it were different, but I'd learned long ago that wishing got you nowhere.

I needed to get back to the farrier for however long it took him to die. I walked out the door and took a deep breath of the fresh air outside, then turned and made my way back to the Houses of Healing, or in this case, the Houses of Death.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

"Maeren!" I heard as I walked in the doors of the wards. One of the aids—Lisemma was her name—had been attending the farrier while I had taken my short break. She'd met me as I'd entered. "Come quick! Onifer's breathing is very bad now."

I hastened my walk and could smell him long before I could see him. The odor of death wafted out to me. Burned and charred skin. Again I fought down the nausea his stench set roiling in my gut.

Thank the Valar he was not conscious any more. He'd spent half the day coughing and groaning until his voice was nothing but a croak. I went to brush the hair from his forehead in comfort to him, but there was not any there. I took a wet cloth from the basin beside his bed, wrung it out and placed it upon his glistening brow.

Onifer had been a handsome young man. Dark blond hair and green eyes, tall and muscular. The muscles of his arms and shoulders were huge, as was befitting a man who wielded large hammers and wrestled cantankerous equines on a daily basis. But now he was reduced to an oozing, bandaged shell of a man, gasping for breath and waiting for death.

I knew if I'd prop him up, he'd last a bit longer. His breathing would ease. But I could not be that cruel. The accident had happened just after noon, and he'd spent the rest of the day in agony. The quicker he went now, the better—for him and for those of us watching over him.

His wife sat beside him; I could see the war in her eyes. Her need to hold him was great, but the revulsion of his burns kept her at bay. There was no place to comfort him that was not injured. I went to her and knelt beside the chair in which she sat.

"Is there aught I might do for you, Ibetta?" I asked her. "It won't be long now."

My heart went out to her—Ibetta, wife of Onifer. They'd been married for only two years, and had a sweet little one-year-old daughter Onwyn between them. Onifer came from the Westfold, and his family all still dwelled there. Ibetta's mother was tending to Onwyn, so Ibetta had been sitting here alone, hour after horrible hour.

Ibetta's face did not change—it was the same devastated mask that she'd worn all afternoon. She quietly shook her head in answer to my question. But her tears began again. I knew how she felt—as if there _were_ no more tears, but here they were again in spite of that.

I rose and gave my attention back to Onifer, trying my best to think of ways in which to ease him and his tortured breathing. With no warning, Onifer's face was replaced in my mind's eye by the face of my dear Dustin. I blinked my eyes and the flash of the vision had gone. Onifer was here before me burned, not my husband.

For the first time I was glad that Dustin had not lived through the fire that claimed his life sixteen years ago. Having him burned in this way would have been devastating to him and to me. It was bad enough knowing he perished in flames, but to have had to watch him die, in the condition that Onifer was now in—I do not believe I would have survived that. Ibetta was incredibly strong to be sitting here as composed as she was.

And my firstborn son Tristin had died in the same fire along with his father. I could not even think about my beautiful son being in a condition such at this. It was unimaginable.

Against all odds, Onifer's eyes opened. I hurriedly went to prop him up—if he was conscious, he would be as comfortable as I could make him. But he pushed at me with the stumps of his bandaged hands. I knew he couldn't speak, so when he shook his head at me, I knew he was telling me to do nothing more.

He looked at his wife and his eyes spoke the words he no longer could. He seemed to tell her of his love of her, and that he'd be waiting on the other side for her when her time would come. He nudged at her hand with his bandaged one and she took his up, all the time fearing that she was hurting him. But it looked to be just what he wanted, and he closed his eyes again. His gasping breaths stopped a few minutes later.

Ibetta stayed with him for an hour or more, crying over him, not wanting to let him go. I stood by, if I might be needed. I finally told Lisemma to go get Ibetta's father to walk his daughter back home. She should not be alone tonight. I went to the cabinet where we stored the healing herbs and took out some Valerian. I measured enough to see Ibetta through a few days, and tucked it into a small pouch for the purpose.

Her father came quickly. Having been out in the fields all day, he'd not known of the accident until just a few minutes prior. Lisemma told me she had met him as he walked toward the Houses of Healing. He took Ibetta by the elbows, lifting her away from her husband's body, and she turned and collapsed on her father. He took her into his arms then, and thanked us for all of our help. I pressed the pouch with the herbs into his hand with quiet instructions on brewing a tea. I watched sadly as he left with her.

I began to unwind the bandages covering Onifer's poor, burned limbs. Lisemma did the same on the other side of him. It did not take us long and we bathed and dried him. We un-tucked the sheet he was lying on and pulled it over his body, tying it where we could to cover him completely. We would have to fetch help to move him to his house, or that of Ibetta's parents, for the funeral rites.

"You go on now, Maeren," Lisemma said. "If you will find some men to take him home, I will wait here for them."

"Thank you, Lisemma, for all your help today," I told her. "I could not have done it without you. I will find some men to bear him home. Good night to you now."

It was growing dark, but the twilit sky held just enough light to show me my path. I'd not gone far when six men met me.

"Mistress Maeren," one of them said, "we just heard the bad news. We will retrieve Onifer's body and fetch him home."

I thanked them, then as I resumed my walk, I thanked the Valar for making that task easier for me. I was so exhausted, I'd felt as if I would not make the walk to my own house, much less try and find men for the bearing of Onifer.

My house was dim. No lamps had been lit. Leofa had not bothered to come home again. I made myself wait till I was within my walls before I allowed the damn on my tears to burst down my cheeks. I sat in the rocking chair, which my father had made before Haedren was born, and where I had rocked my own son to sleep on many nights. I could feel my father's presence as I sat in that chair, and it comforted me as much as I could be comforted. I made no sound, but the tears fell in torrents until I thought I would die.

It had been long since I've thought of that dreadful day when my husband and son had been killed, when one of the stables caught fire, and they had felt it their duty to see to the horses. I'd been angry and sad for very many years, unable to move past the fact that my dearest husband and son were no longer with me. But as they say, time heals. And thus it had in my case, too.

This house was the one I grew up in. It had been partially burned when Orcs killed my father and set it aflame. My brothers and some other men had rebuilt the ruined part when they heard I would be coming home. They'd rebuilt it for me.

There were two bedrooms, which had once upon a time housed us all—my parents, my four brothers and me. My father and mother took one room and my brothers and I were in the other. My mother had divided the room the best that she could, so that as I got older I could have some small bit of privacy. It had been cramped and yes, the boys always teased and harassed me, but mostly we got along, especially after my Mother's death. I think my brothers knew just how much my Mother's passing had hurt me, so they went easier on me after that. They still had their fun, though. They would steal my clothes if I was in the bathtub, but I would turn prunish before I would give them a glance at what they hoped to make me reveal.

I smiled as I remembered these things. Then I cried again, as I thought about Saedren.

So tonight I sat here with tears coursing down my face. Fire. I hated and loved it. With it a family had hot meals. It was warm and cozy on a winter's night. A lover's face by candlelight could heat your blood.

But fire was also fierce and deadly, and if it got the chance it would consume you.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

My tears were spent, so I readied myself for bed. I'd not bothered to light a lamp when I came in. What had been the point? My eyes were so blinded by crying, I could see nothing anyway. By the time I got up from the chair, it had grown as dark as it would. I knew not the time, but it mattered not at all. I was tired to the bones this evening. If I could sleep, that is what I would do.

It had been long since I'd shed any tears. When Elrond left to sail West, I had wept until I truly thought I might drown from it. His loss was as profound in my life as other losses I'd had previously. And while I could find solace in the fact that he lived, I knew I would never see him again. The pain of that seemed to smother me for a while. But I had never been one to weep for long—well, except for when I was carrying Leofa, and as time passed, I was able to picture Elrond in beautiful Valinor with his lovely wife Celebrian. He'd waited long for that happiness. The least I could do was be happy in my life, as he would undoubtedly be in his.

I laid down in my bed, pulling the quilt over myself. It was late spring and could still be cool at night, but I used the cover more for the comfort of having something surrounding me than for the warmth it would bring. I lay there for a very long time, but sleep finally claimed me.

I thought at first I was dreaming, but as I came more fully awake, I realized that Elladan was spooned up behind me. I didn't know how long I'd been sleeping, but I felt as if I'd been drugged. I couldn't move without extreme effort. Somewhat as if it were all a dream.

He'd come tonight of all nights. Could it be that he knew I needed him? No. He was an Elf, not a god.

I leaned back into him and he chuckled lowly. His hand came up to touch my face, and I turned to put my arms around his neck. He kissed me long and slow, and I savored every tiny moment of it.

He seemed to know I was not myself. His fingers brushed along my lashes, as if there might still be tears there. Maybe there were.

"I sense your sadness, Mae," he said. "What is wrong?"

"I wish not to think about it, Elladan," I told him. "Make love to me. Make me forget about everything but us."

And that's just what he did. Slow and sensuous, he claimed me. Driving me to madness first, with me wanting him to get on with it. _As always_. But also, as always, he took his time, leaving no part of me unloved.

How I treasured him.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

**A/N: I have not paid attention to the exact time line when it came time for Elrond to sail. I didn't research when he sailed, I made that time coincide with events in my story. Sorry for bending canon in this way. But hey, I'm bending it so badly in this story anyway, if you're still reading, this little thing won't bother you at all.**

**Puxinette**


	2. Arguments and Persuasions

_Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien._

I awoke the next morning alone, as was always the case when Elladan visited. We were ever careful not to be found out, so as far as anyone—including Leofa—knew, Elladan and I were friends and that was all. I rose, almost as sluggish as I had been the night before. I reasoned it away with the fact that I'd had a most upsetting day yesterday and had not quite caught up from it yet. I felt accepting of Dustin and Tristin's deaths, but it was still no wonder that the circumstances of fire and burning would slap me down when I met them again.

After I'd dressed and had secured my hair in its roll at the nape of my neck, I opened my bedroom door and, there in the main room of the house, sat the love of my life in the rocking chair, as if he had not a care in the world. _And perhaps he didn't. _

Elladan's beaming smile caught at my heart. "Good morning, sleepy head," he said. "How fare you this fine day?"

"Too early yet," I mumbled. "Need tea."

He got up from the chair just as the kettle whistled over the fire at the hearth. "It just so happens I have hot water. What a coincidence."

"Yes, isn't it just?" The mischief in his eyes made me laugh. I went to Leofa's bedroom door and opened it, just to make sure my son wasn't snug in his bed. Of course he wasn't. I was deluding myself again.

"Where is he," Elladan asked, "as if I do not know?" He busied himself making my tea—_what a sweetheart! _

"He said he was going to Haedren's yesterday afternoon when he stormed out of here," I answered. "I suppose that's exactly where he is."

I could tell Elladan disapproved by the set of his jaw, but I was not up to the argument yet. We ever went round and round about where Leofa's rightful place was—which Elladan considered to be here with me—and I ever told my Elven lover that I had to raise my son as I saw fit. And if the boy needed a man in his life bad enough to seek out my brother, who was I to stop it? That was when Elladan usually answered that if Leofa wasn't living with me anyway, he should be in Gondor with his father if he needed the influence of a man that badly. We typically agreed to disagree. But in my heart of hearts, I knew Elladan was right. I just could not think of parting with my son. At least, I hadn't been able to until now.

Leofa was resentful and angry toward me. But only with me. He wasn't a bad boy; Haedren ever praised Leofa's many virtues, and my son did have many; likewise, he had failings, too. But he did not get into trouble with anyone else. Only with me, his mother.

Leofa was unhappy. I could see it, I just did not want to admit it to myself, because I would then be forced to do that which I did not want to do: Let Leofa go live with his father full time, as he wanted to. But at this point, would that not be better than having my son always at odds with me?

I decided to think on this some other time, when I had full use of my faculties. Right now I felt barely awake. I'd only go round in circles with myself, and I couldn't bear to do that right now.

Elladan placed my cup of tea on the table, so I sat myself down to enjoy it. Only belatedly did I think of the honey I would need to sweeten it. I rose and went to the cupboard I always kept the little honey pot in and returned to sit at the table with it. I lifted the lid to dip some into my cup, but the sight and smell of it suddenly turned my stomach. I set the honey pot down and fought the nausea I was not sure I could control.

Elladan frowned and sat in the chair next to me.

"What is wrong, Mae?" he asked, concern clearly written on his face.

I swallowed convulsively for a few seconds, still fighting to keep the bile in my stomach where it belonged. After only a few moments more, I was better—and able to explain.

"The farrier was burned yesterday, Elladan," I told him, my voice still a little shaky. "They brought him into the wards just after lunchtime. He was burned over most of his body, and honey is used to fight infection. I smeared it all over him. The smell of honey mixed with the odor of burned flesh—"

The nausea threatened me again, so I fought it back down. "He died last evening. I think the honey I was going to put into my tea just now reminded me of the horrible day I had yesterday." I looked at him and smiled weakly. "We both know how badly I react to fire and people being burned."

He lifted his hand to touch my cheek, but at that same moment, Leofa came slamming into the house.

"Elladan!" He said, his voice cracking. That had been happening with some regularity since he'd last returned from visiting Gondor. He launched himself at the Elf, and Elladan stood and caught him, giving him a hard, swift hug. He then held him at arm's length.

"You must've grown another inch since I saw you in Gondor at Yule," Elladan said.

"More like two," Leofa replied, proudly.

What Leofa did not know was that just after Yule, but before Leofa returned to Edoras, Elladan had paid me a visit, and we'd had Yule together here, just the two of us. It had been a very special time. I had been missing my son, as I always do at Yule, and it had become somewhat of a tradition for Elladan to appear and help me pass the time until Leofa's return. Of course, no one else knew he was with me—it was all very clandestine—and Elladan was always gone by the time Elrohir brought my son home.

Sometimes I did not like these games I forced myself to play. I have always considered myself a forthright sort of woman. What one saw on the surface was exactly what was underneath. Yet when I'd been with child by Aragorn, my life changed, and not completely for the better. I would never regret having my son, but some of the complications that had come with him I could do without.

Elves being one of the complications. I loved dearly all the Elves I had come to know, but Elladan being Peredhil was the largest complication of them all. And sometimes I wondered if this sneaking around with him was worth all the pain it caused me—I liked not living a life of deceit. Of course if I would consent to marry him, as Elladan had asked me to on more occasions than I could count, my problem would be solved. But I had never been able to get past the fact that if we married, he would more than likely choose to live a Human life, and I'd promised Elrond, as well as myself, that I would never be a part of that. I truly could never see myself changing my thoughts about this. And it had been at least twelve years since I'd determined to never be the cause of an Elf condemning himself to a Human life and death.

I suddenly remembered Leofa's letter from Aragorn. I had placed it on the table the night before, thinking that if Leofa did return he might see it. I picked it up and handed it toward Leofa, but Elladan snatched it away before Leofa had a chance to take it.

"I know what's in it," Elladan directed at me, "and I need to speak with you—alone—before he reads it."

"Unfair!" Leofa said good-naturedly. "I see it plainly has my name on it." He smiled, his eyebrows lifted to show he did not mean to be fresh.

"The messenger who delivered it prematurely will surely regret not speaking to me before he gave it to your Mother," Elladan told him.

"Who gave it to you, Mother?" Leofa asked. "Was it Elrohir?"

"I do not know, son," I answered. "It was given to an aid and she in turn gave it to me."

"If that is your underhanded manner of finding out if my bother came with me," Elladan aimed at Leofa, "then I will just tell you. Yes, Elrohir is with me and so is Haldan, if you must know."

Leofa's smile told all. He loved Elves almost as much as I did, if that were possible.

"So why are you here, Elladan?" Leofa asked him, as he busied himself cutting a slice of bread. He may have already eaten a breakfast provided by Haedren's wife Tema, but a boy his age could put away victuals for two grown men, it seemed.

"Although I need no other reason than seeing you on occasion, I am actually here this time to see King Eomer. I have some business your father wished to discuss with the King in person and not by messenger, but since he could not get away, he asked me and Elrohir to come in his stead."

Aragorn could not get away? I doubted that. He had not set foot in Rohan since Leofa and I had returned, and with good reason, especially now. Leofa's resemblance to Aragorn was uncanny, and Aragorn had promised from the first to keep me unidentified in Gondor, and I'm sure he likewise would keep his own identity secret in Rohan as protection for both my son and me.

"Well hurry and discuss my letter with Mother, then," he said, smiling. "I would like to know what my father writes to me about."

"Get you gone and I will," Elladan replied just as smartly.

"Wait, Leofa," I said hurriedly, touching his shoulder to stop him. "Where exactly are you off to this morning?"

"That's _my_ business, _Mother_!" he replied caustically, his brows drawn together in a frown.

Elladan looked at him severely. "Since when do you speak to one of your parents in such a way?"

Leofa had obviously not thought about Elladan's presence when he'd answered me, and I could see an expression of regret in his eyes. Not regret for speaking to me in such a manner, but regret that this Elf that he adored might think badly of him.

Before either of them could speak, I simply said, "Leofa? What will you be doing today?"

"Uncle Haedren has taken over the farrier's duties for now and is outfitting his own barn for the task," he said. "He told me he could use my help. So that is where I will be." His expression was guarded now, afraid I might put an end to his plans.

No wonder Leofa hadn't wanted to tell me of his intentions. He knew I would more than likely forbid it, since it was just yesterday that a fire in the smithy had killed the previous farrier. Yet I held onto my emotions. He would be with Haedren after all, and I knew my brother would not put my son in peril.

"Sounds like fine work to me, son," I said, even though I didn't sound convincing even to myself. "See you this evening. I'll have supper ready when you return." Turning to Elladan I said, "You and Elrohir and Haldan will dine with us, will you not?"

"I can speak only for myself," he said, "and my answer is yes, but I feel fairly certain in saying that all three of us will be here."

Leofa's good humor was restored. "I will be here, then." He looked at me, his large, gray eyes showing gratitude that I had not stopped him from working with Haedren today. "Goodbye, Mother. Elladan." He left, and he did not slam the door for once.

I had not failed to notice it was not my presence this evening that he craved. Leofa would be here for supper because the Elves would be. If they'd not be coming, neither would he in all likelihood.

I looked at Elladan and saw that he stared back at me with interest I did not want to explore. We were about to have words about the way my son spoke to me. And I dreaded that more with each passing minute.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

"Maeren," Elladan started, "does Leofa often speak to you in such a fashion?" His face was serious, and I did not want to answer him. But something about his expression told me he already knew the truth.

I had written to Arwen a few months ago, telling her of my woes with Leofa. I'd not told her to keep what I'd written in confidence, but then I hadn't thought I'd needed to. Somehow I knew that Elladan—and probably Aragorn at this point—knew exactly the troubles I was having with Leofa.

"Elladan," I said, "I can raise my son."

I could see he wanted to argue this point with me, but he knew I would not take it well. "I know you can, Maeren," Elladan finally said. "But if he's becoming unruly, perhaps he needs a sterner hand. He's becoming a spirited young man."

"He has my brothers," I returned. "And while they aren't his father, they are exemplary men, having raised fine sons of their own. He is getting excellent male guidance."

"If that is the case, then why did he raise his voice to you in scorn, just a few moments ago?"

I heaved a deep sigh and sat down at the table again, hoping to gain some time in which to form my arguments. I tried once more to put the honey into my tea. Unsuccessfully.

Elladan sat down in the chair next to me and took the honey pot from my hands. He put a generous dollop of the thick, golden syrup into my tea and gave it a stir. He pushed the cup across the tabletop until it rested before me.

I thanked him and raised it to my lips, holding my breath so I wouldn't smell the honey in it. The rich, warm liquid slid down my throat and I savored its taste. I had feared it might make me ill. _But it hadn't, thanks be._

"Maeren?" Elladan prompted. I'd not responded to his last volley in our little skirmish concerning Leofa. I decided to ignore this argument for as long as Elladan would allow me to.

"What was it you needed to discuss with me before Leofa reads the missive from Aragorn?" I asked him.

Elladan raised his brows, making sure I knew he understood I was trying to avoid the subject we'd been discussing, but decided not to make an issue of it. _Had I known what he wanted to speak about…_

"Arwen shared with Estel the fact that Leofa was becoming difficult for you, and he in turn shared it with Elrohir and me. I am sure Arwen would not have said anything about it to Estel at all had she not thought it important enough that you might, under different conditions, seek Estel's help in the matter. Yet she also knows you would never do that—ask for Estel's aid—not unless the circumstances were dire. She wants it not to become a dire issue, that is why she shared it with him at all. Since Elrohir and I were coming to Rohan anyway to meet with Eomer, Estel thought I might try my hand at convincing you to allow Leofa to come for an extended stay in Minas Tirith."

My trying to ignore our previous argument hadn't done me any good, since what Elladan wanted to discuss was, in a roundabout way, what we'd been arguing about before—Leofa and his bitterness toward me.

This was something I'd feared since I'd had my son—Aragorn taking him from me. But if I would be fair, he'd done nothing of the sort up until now. He had his other children to look after, as well as a wife and an entire kingdom. It wasn't as if he was bored and had decided to make my life miserable as a fitting diversion for his wealth of unoccupied time. He had better things to do.

And I knew in my heart that Leofa and I had come to a crossroads in our relationship. I was not exactly sure the source of his anger with me, but I had a few ideas.

I was ever the person who kept him from doing something that I deemed to be too dangerous for a child of his age. I had made great strides in not coddling him, and I had Haedren and Dirhael to thank for that, but there were still times that I forbid him from doing something I felt was too perilous, just as any mother would. Yet I did not think that was what he was so angry about.

A boy did not grow up knowing he was a King's son—a _married_ King's son, _not_ married to his mother—and believe all was as it should be. Leofa was smarter than that.

I'd not heard of anyone in Edoras speculating about Leofa's paternity, and I would have if the story were indeed making the rounds. Edoras was small, as far as cities go, and everyone knew everyone else's business—or thought they did. For all anyone here knew, I'd been married during my time in Gondor, and my husband had died in the war defending the gates of Minas Tirith. Leofa was thirteen and had surely heard these stories himself long before now, and he also knew them to be untrue. I'm sure this led to his own questioning of his beginnings, and he must have come to the assumption that I was a less than stellar example of what a woman and mother should be.

I'd counseled him since he was old enough to talk, to tell no one here his father was alive. I told him it was for protection, for both himself and his father. In all honesty, it was protection for me.

Leofa was old enough to have drawn conclusions on his own about these things by now, and I would not be surprised if his disdain for me came from what he'd assumed from the facts as he knew them—or as he didn't know them, as the case truly was. It seemed my pretenses had caught up with me, at the very least in coloring my son's perceptions of me in a very dim hue.

Elladan took my cold hands into his warm ones and looked at me with those eyes I adored.

"Mae," he said quietly, "it is time Leofa knew the whole story of his origins. I think it would be better for him if it came from Estel." I must've looked as if I were about to argue with him, because he hurried on. "That may not be the only source of his trouble with you, but I think—and more importantly, _Estel_ thinks—it is the main one. Have you an opinion about it?"

I looked at Elladan long before I answered him. "I have suspected this as the cause of his behavior myself."

"From what I can see, by Leofa's demeanor as well as from what Arwen told Estel," Elladan said, "Leofa thinks he already knows all about how he came to be. You and I know that what he believes is more than likely very far from the truth. And you do not deserve his disrespect. It is time he understands all."

"But I _do_ deserve his disrespect, Elladan," I said, my eyes downcast. "What I did was wrong. What happened between Aragorn and me should never have happened." I looked at Elladan, and I was sure he must be able to see the regret in my eyes. "And look at me now—doing the same thing again, but with you."

"It is not the same thing, and you know it," he said. "We love each other, and we are both free to bind ourselves to each other, if you but would." _He'd said 'we' loved each other. Did he just assume my love, even though I'd never uttered the word to him? _

He looked away for a moment, obviously trying to get the conversation back on the track on which we started. "Regardless, you do not deserve scorn from your son when Estel gets glowing adoration from him. If you were wrong, so was Estel. Estel knows this. That is why he wants Leofa to be with him now in Minas Tirith and stay for awhile."

"Elladan," I pleaded, "he's just a little boy."

"Look at him, Mae," he said kindly. "He's hardly a little boy. He's as tall as you are, and his voice breaks when he doesn't expect it. He's growing up, and you know this as well as anyone does."

I didn't protest again. It was useless, because what Elladan was saying was completely true. I just did not want to face it.

Elladan ran his thumbs over the backs of my hands, joined with his on the table. "For the most part, when Leofa has been in Minas Tirith, he's been very sheltered. When he has ventured out into the lower circles, it has always been in the company of Estel. No one would dare whisper about the King's illegitimate first-born son within the King's hearing."

I cringed at Elladan's description of Leofa, even though it was true. But I did not interrupt him.

"I'm unsure whether Leofa has heard of this from anyone before. He and Eldarion together can get into mischief, and it would not surprise me to learn that they have been down to the lower circles alone, exploring as young boys will do. Estel grew up to explore woods and streams, but while Leofa is in Gondor, he and Eldarion do not have that luxury. Perhaps Leofa has heard tales of his origins out on the streets of Minas Tirith, and that is where his bitter attitude toward you has come from."

I studied my hands, joined with Elladan's on the table. I couldn't look at Elladan at the moment; my eyes were filling with tears, and if I moved them at all, those tears would fall.

"Estel wants to put Leofa into the novice guard training, as Eldarion is. The real world, one might say. A world where he will be in Gondor and not be treated any better than anyone else, just because he is the King's son. It will show him that things are not always pleasant and are not painted in black or white, but also come in shades of gray.

"When Leofa is in the guard training, the other boys will undoubtedly inform him of exactly who and what he is. Estel will tell Leofa about the circumstances of his conception before he enters the training, so that Leofa will not be surprised when the other boys bring it up in his presence, probably in very crude terms."

"I don't want my son hurt, Elladan!" I said, almost desperately. "If Aragorn wants to tell him, fine. But don't thrust him out into the cold world to hear despicable things. I will not allow him to go, if Aragorn carries out this plan."

"Do you think Estel would ever hurt Leofa, Maeren?" Elladan asked sternly. I shook my head, not daring to speak. More tears had sprung to my eyes, and it was a miracle they were not falling by now.

"It isn't that Estel wants Leofa hurt in any way," Elladan continued in a much kinder tone. "Do not think that. He loves that boy as much as any of his children. But he wants to do right by him. That especially includes ensuring his proper behavior toward you and toward everyone, quite truthfully. But he does not want him living in some tale that isn't true, either, especially if you are on the receiving end of Leofa's wrath for something you both are responsible for. And coming from you, the facts won't have the same impact as they would coming from Estel.

"Leofa is becoming a young man. He needs to know the story. As it is, he is holding you in contempt, and that cannot be allowed to go on."

"We do not know for certain if that is what is troubling him," I said, grasping for some sort of defense; some reason it would not be a good idea for my Leofa to leave me and live with Aragorn in Gondor.

Elladan looked at me askance. "Anyone with eyes can see he has some particular complaint with you. Other than the usual objections a son might have with his mother, what other thing of any magnitude could it be?" He squeezed my hands.

"Also, at Yule, Estel voiced a concern to me that Leofa may disdain those he deems 'beneath' him," Elladan said. "Estel wants his son growing into a man who sees the worth of everyone, not just a chosen fortunate few. He wants to teach him more of the Dunedain, his brothers to the north, whom Leofa would most assuredly scorn, did he come into contact with any of them."

Elladan was right about Leofa's contempt toward those less fortunate, or those he felt were not 'high' enough for his regard. I truly know not where this attitude was born—I ever treated all people the same. He had watched since he was a toddler, my care of any and all in the Houses of Healing. My brothers certainly were not considered high born, and well they knew it, and would never teach such ways of thinking to their nephews or sons. But one thing was certain—Leofa needed lessons in acceptance of others. There was no doubt of that.

But I had another concern—

"What if he's learned this behavior from being treated as royalty while in Gondor? Will his staying there not just reinforce this bad judgment he seems to have acquired?"

"It undoubtedly is where he's gotten this notion. And that is where the guard training will come into play," Elladan said, by now turning on all his charm to sway my answer. He must have known I was wavering. "One does not get plunged in with others of such diverse backgrounds and emerge in the end without his attitude changed."

"What if it only strengthens his opinion, that there are others too low to associate with?" I asked. "What if it doesn't change his mind, but fortify what he thinks?"

"It isn't as if he will not be home every night to complain or voice such things," Elladan commented. "And if he does not share his mind about this, he will have Arwen and Estel, or me or Elrohir to bring the matter up to him, and hopefully guide him toward more open thinking."

"Valar help us if Leofa ever uncovers the truth about the two of us," I said. "His opinion of me will forever be lacking."

"Would you but bond with me, there'd be nothing for him to discover," Elladan said bluntly.

I didn't answer. We'd had this argument too many times. He knew how I felt. And I understood his feelings on the matter too.

I knew giving Leofa into Aragorn's care was the right thing to do, but I very much did not want to do it. Yet when I thought back over the past few months, and Leofa's obvious rancor toward me, I knew I had to do everything that my son needed for his continued growth to manhood. That is, if I wanted him to be a man of good character. And I truly wanted that for him. And who knew? Maybe when he returned to me, his attitude toward me would be changed for the better. Would that not be worth living without him for a time?

"All right, Elladan," I said in resignation. "Leofa can live in Gondor for a while." I studied the tabletop again. "I suppose this means I will be truly alone. You will not be able to come here with Leofa not being here at all."

Elladan smiled. "There may be other business with Eomer in the future, Maeren. I would make sure I was the one sent to deal with it. I manage to see you every year at Yule with no one being the wiser, do I not? And remember, I would be staying in Minas Tirith to watch after Leofa." One of his brows rose, so I knew he'd be teasing me next. "At least you would know that he was in the best of hands." His smile turned devilish at that remark.

I did not smile back at him. Instead I rose from my chair and carried my cup to the sink. I took the rest of the water from the kettle and mixed it with enough cool water to wash the few dishes that were sitting there. Elladan came up behind me, but did not touch me.

"It is the best thing for Leofa, Maeren," he said.

I could only hope he was right.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	3. Truths and Faith

_Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien._

I kissed Elladan goodbye a little bit later, with me going to the Houses of Healing and him going to the Golden Hall to see Eomer. I decided to put Leofa's leaving to Gondor into the back of my mind for the present. I'd been unhappy enough yesterday to last me for quite awhile. I did not want to be unhappy today. And how could I be sad when I knew I'd be seeing Haldan in the short time it would take me to walk to the Healing Halls?

Haldan was somewhat of a fixture in Edoras' Houses of Healing. Whenever he came to Rohan, he immediately took up residence there. I had even given him a room in the wards, where he stayed for the duration of each of his visits.

I opened the main door to the wards, looking around for Haldan as soon as I could. And there he was, sitting beside Feodred's bed, talking to the old man as if he'd known him for years. I strode over to them and placed my hand upon Feodred's brow, checking for fever. He was cool, I was glad to note.

Feodred was feeling better today. I wondered how much of that was due to Haldan's uninhibited way of speaking to any and all. I knew of Feodred's appreciation of plain talk, and Haldan certainly could excel at that, when he had a mind to. Haldan's ageless face was yet the angelic one I'd first seen in the Healing Halls of Imladris. And he could still surprise me by saying exactly what was on his mind, which usually wasn't angelic by any means.

"And how are you feeling this morning, my fine fellow?" I asked Feodred. He'd been brought into the wards two days ago, with that dread stomach ailment that was seeming to sicken very many people at present. It always hit hardest the youngest and oldest of those who contracted it.

"Oh he's feeling right as rain, Maeren," Haldan chimed in, before Feodred could even open his mouth. "I think he is ready to go to his own house and rest in his own bed."

I smiled at my friend. "Good morning, Haldan," I said. "I'm certainly happy to see you again." He dipped his head in acknowledgment to me, but then glanced back at Feodred.

"Lord Haldan has the right of it, Mistress Maeren," Feodred said, his voice as strong as it could be in someone almost eighty years old. _He was a sturdy one, our Feodred_. "My bowels are good and I've not chucked anything up since yesterday noon, after they brought that poor burned fella in, rest his soul. But I was still a bit too off to keep m'lunch down after seeing and smelling him, I'll tell ya."

Haldan raised his eyebrows at that. I explained to Haldan about Onifer and how he'd not survived his horrific burns.

"All right, then, Feodred," I said. "It sounds as if you are more than on the mend at this point. I'll have Lisemma come over to help you get up and dressed in just a few moments. And I'll send for your son to come fetch you home."

I bid Feodred farewell, with instructions to keep drinking lots of liquids and being kind to his guts for a few more days, adding that ale or rum was not what I considered an appropriate liquid, to be sure. _I could speak plainly, too, when it was called for_. I left to find Lisemma and another aid to do as I told Feodred I would.

Haldan and I checked on the ten other patients that were still in the wards. All were on their way to being released from my care. Again, that stomach ailment had brought us three men and two women, as well as five small children so far. I only hoped it would not continue, but since we'd admitted no new cases yesterday, I felt fairly confident the worst was over. Most people were able to weather the sickness at home, but a few got too sick and stayed that way for so long that it weakened them to the point of needing my assistance.

After more than an hour, Haldan and I had seen to all those left in the wards, and I felt the need to sit down. I led him to my office, which was much more comfortable than the one in Minas Tirith had been, thanks be. My desk was a desk, and not a wide plank supported by two whiskey barrels, and my chair did not creak or moan when I sat in it. The furnishings were plain, but they were more than functional. Eomer saw to the Houses of Healing the same way he oversaw the rest of his kingdom—very well.

I closed the door after us, wanting to speak to Haldan of things I wished others not to hear. I supposed I could wait until we went home later, since I would need part of the afternoon to make an evening meal for five, but I wanted not to. As I turned to go to my chair, I almost bumped into Haldan. He'd stopped right behind me—to collect his hug, he explained to me, as he did just that.

His expression darkened, and as he stepped back from me, his brow furrowed. "Are you well, Maeren?" he asked me.

I tended to forget about Elven healers and their 'laying on of hands' as they called it. Truthfully, I still did not feel as right I should, but I'd had a dreadful day yesterday and was up with Elladan half the night—what would I expect, but to feel drained?

"Of course, Haldan," I explained casually. "I'm a little tired, but as I told you earlier, I tended to a victim of fire yesterday—who did not live—and that always takes its toll on me."

"I think it is more than that Maeren," he said. His face was almost alarmed, and he was beginning to scare me.

"What did you sense, Haldan, when you touched me just now?" I asked.

"You would not believe me if I told you, Maeren," he said with apprehension. "I misbelieve myself. And I never misbelieve myself."

I went behind my desk and sat. I needed to be off my feet now more than I did before. There was another chair in my office, which Haldan dragged up to the front of my desk.

"Well please tell me, so that I can misbelieve it for myself, if you would not mind," I told him carefully.

Haldan sat down slowly and then looked at me, confusion seeming to play with his thoughts. "It has to do with your female systems, which you may or may not wish to discuss with me."

I breathed a sigh of relief. _Was that all?_ He obviously perceived my 'change of life', which I had suspected for the past few months was beginning to affect my body.

"I am simply growing older, Haldan," I said. "You are sensing my 'change', as it were."

"That could be," he admitted, "but I would feel better about it if you would allow me to examine you." Even after I had explained my physical condition to him, he still seemed ill at ease.

"I will allow it," I said, "but later, when we go to my house for our evening meal. You will come for the evening meal at my home tonight, won't you Haldan? I've already asked Elladan and he's coming. Elladan will ask Elrohir when he sees him during the meeting he was planning with Eomer this morning, so I expect you will all be there. And also Leofa will come."

Haldan seemed to push away his concern for my health and smiled. "I would be honored to be a guest at your table tonight, Maeren, as I always am. However, I supposed Leofa's presence would go without saying." Haldan frowned. "Is there trouble brewing with the lad? If there is, I truly would like to know, so that I might set him straight."

Poor Leofa. And Rich Leofa. He had many who cared enough about him to 'set him straight'. I knew that was a good thing.

I explained to Haldan what had been happening between me and Leofa, also telling him the reasons I thought my son had begun to treat me disrespectfully. I told him about Aragorn's wish for Leofa to live in Gondor, and also his plans for our son. I asked Haldan for his opinion. I was still very unhappy at the thought that I would be without Leofa for any length of time at all, and if I could get anyone to agree with me that his place was here, I wanted to make sure I left no stone unturned. Yet I knew in my heart that letting Leofa go was the right thing to do, and I knew that Haldan would think so, too.

"Although I can see that the thought of having Leofa gone from you saddens you much, I do think, in light of what you've told me so far, that going to live with Estel would be the best thing for him. The Elf boy—excuse me, I mean Elladan—is right. The telling of the circumstances of Leofa's conception would be best coming from his father, especially if the boy most likely already suspects the worst of you. He might not listen fully to you, since he's formed an opinion already, and, being _your_ son, his view might not be easily swayed." Haldan smiled that sweet smile of his, making sure I did not take offense at his remarks concerning my stubbornness.

"I can tell that the fact that Elladan and Estel discussing this behind your back without your knowledge grates at you," he said, after a moment. "And rightly so. Would that there were some other way to discuss these things—say, if you _also_ lived in Gondor?" This time I did not let his innocent demeanor draw me from feeling just a tiny bit miffed.

Haldan had been trying to get me to leave Rohan and move to Minas Tirith for a very long while. I do not think there was a time that I saw him that he didn't bring the subject up. When I would reply that my secret would not be secret any more, he would ask me if that would be the worst thing that ever happened to me. I always told him it wouldn't be, that I would live, but that I might not live comfortably. Public opinion can and did make people's lives miserable at times, and I was not sure I was up for such scrutiny.

"I wish not to beat that dead horse again, Haldan," I replied in a wry tone.

"Sorry," he said contritely, although his eyes shone with devilry. "You can't blame an Elf for trying. I miss you, you know."

A knock on the door interrupted our small dispute. It was Lisemma, asking if there was anything special I needed her to do.

"No, Lisemma," I said. "I gave the other patients in the ward, except for little Aldwin, leave to go home. He will be all that is left, and his mother will look after him. You only need to make sure he's drinking plenty of fluids. And perhaps make him some rice or try to give him some apple slices. His little bowels are still running badly. I believe Selwyn will be on duty tonight, so she can look after him, too. Other than the usual—seeing that the supply cabinets are in order, sweeping, mopping, seeing to those that come in—I have nothing else."

I told her I was headed home and to be sure and have someone come for me if I was needed. Lisemma took her leave of us and I rose, ready to get on with my day.

"I suppose we should go now, Haldan," I said. "That chicken I'm planning for supper is still running around the yard. With needing to feed so many grown males, I might need two!"

"Are you up for running after chickens, Maeren?" Haldan asked me.

"I have a method for trapping them, Haldan, have no fear," I told him conspiratorially. "They will not take much chasing."

"I should have known," Haldan said, his eyes sparkling. "Maeren is ever the wily woman."

We laughed and left together to walk to my home.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

We got to my house, after first making a stop at Jenwyn's home to buy bread. I did not have the time to devote to all the kneading and rising and punching down of dough to make it myself, but I needed bread. The War of the Ring had made a widow of Jenwyn, and she had three young children to feed. So I, along with some of our neighbors, bought the bread we needed from her, which gave her some coin to in turn feed her children. It was a winning solution for all of us.

In what seemed no time at all, I had chickens caught, slaughtered and plucked. Haldan did not even offer to do it for me. I supposed he thought I would take exception to his doing something I was fully capable of, but he thought wrong this time. I truly was exhausted and I could have used his help, even with the wiliness I had at cornering chickens. I had them in a large pot with carrots and potatoes within a very short while. One pot cooking was always my style. I'd never been the best in the kitchen, but I was sure it would be edible.

By mid afternoon, I was flagging badly. By this time, Elrohir and Elladan had made it to my house and they were discussing Gondor's business at my kitchen table, with Haldan throwing his two cent's worth in every now and then. I put my meal into the oven, and then I decided to take a nap.

I had retreated to my bedroom and fell asleep within moments of my head hitting the pillow, and I did not awaken until late afternoon. All was quiet from the main room of my house, so I decided the others had gone on some errand and would return soon. Leofa certainly hadn't slammed in, or I'd have been awake before now. The aroma of baking chicken made my stomach growl.

I got up and straightened myself. I had the luxury of a mirror in my bedroom, and as I looked at my reflection, I saw what Haldan had probably seen—a very tired woman. Perhaps I should mix up a tonic for myself and begin taking it. I did look bad.

I opened my bedroom door and found I wasn't alone after all. Haldan was in the rocking chair reading a book he'd found on one of my shelves. He glanced up and smiled as I entered the room.

"I thought you might be up before now," he said. "I had hoped to get that examination done."

"Let's wait until after the evening meal," I replied. At his look of protest, I continued, "The others will be back here soon, and I don't want to be alarming any of them with you examining me. They will leave after the meal is done, and then you can check me out to your heart's content."

"I was under the impression that Elladan might stay," Haldan said carefully, all the while looking at me from the corners of his eyes.

"And what would give you that impression?" I asked innocently.

His expression turned to one of incredulity.

"Maeren," he said, "I have known about the two of you for years."

I must've blushed because my face grew warm.

"What do you think you know and from whom did you learn it?" I asked him with as much innocence as I could muster while still blushing profusely.

"Well, for one thing, there was a very suspect visit I received late one night several years ago in Imladris, when you were completely unclothed—except for the linen from a bed covering you—and the Elf boy was very nearly in the same state. Forgetting that, though, there is the fact that year after year Elladan leaves Gondor just after Yule and stays gone for weeks. One year I confronted him and would not leave him be until he told me where he was going. When I found out he was coming to Rohan to see you, I naturally invited myself along, since I can never get enough of your company, you know."

He paused and smiled at me sweetly. This was another nudge at me to move to Gondor, I was sure.

"Yet he told me in no uncertain terms that I was completely unwelcome on this trip to see you. That I would—how did he put it—severely curtail his plans, if I insisted on coming. And he would not have his plans—whatever they were—curtailed."

Haldan took a breath, studying me as he continued, "As I have told you on at least one other occasion, I may look as if I were born yesterday, but I can assure you I was not. It did not take a genius, such as I am anyway, to figure out just exactly what he was up to when he came to Rohan to see you, and Leofa was nowhere in the vicinity at the time."

_Well, I had asked after all_. I decided to play this with as much dignity as I could collect.

"Elladan will not stay," I said, after a moment. "He might return, but much later in the night when the house is dark. Leofa will find some reason to return to Haedren's. He always does. You and I will be quite alone, after they've all left."

Haldan agreed to wait, and I set about putting the finishing touches on my meal. Elladan and Elrohir came back a little while later, with a gift: they'd been by the local bakery and brought dessert—an apple pie.

Soon the house was lively again, especially when Leofa finally appeared, to the everlasting delight of the Elves. They kept him talking throughout the meal and after we'd finished eating our pie, Elladan produced the letter from Aragorn for Leofa to read.

My son tore through the seal and devoured the letter quickly. When he finally looked up, it was to the sons of Elrond he exclaimed excitedly, "My father wants me to return to Gondor! He is arranging for me to train with the tower guard, just as Eldarion is!"

Leofa finally looked at me, his expression taking on a hard edginess I'd come to expect. "Well, Mother," he said, the lilt of sarcasm in his voice, "do I get to go or do I not?"

I held out the moment, just because I could. And because I was hurt that he'd shared his exciting news with others before me. I could have been fair, and realized that he knew I would more than likely be against it, and that was why he'd not included me in his announcement, but I felt like not being fair right now.

I finally had exacted enough punishment and lifted my brows before I spoke. Shrugging my shoulders I said, "I suppose you may go."

At all the fuss they raised, you might have thought I'd announced that Eru was about to join us for tea. No one noticed that I sat unsmiling. But it didn't really matter. I would endure. It was for a good cause, after all. And Leofa would be the better for it, in the long run, and that was what was most important to me.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Leofa could not contain himself—he said he simply _had_ to go tell his Uncle Haedren the marvelous news. So he again slammed out my door. I had no delusions that I would see him any more tonight. I'd be lucky to see him tomorrow, unless he came to check that the Elves might be back here again.

I rose to do the dishes and suddenly had three pairs of Elven hands grasping for dishtowels to dry them for me. I was not proud—I found the towels and we all got to work. It took not long, with us all talking and laughing, to get the job done.

Elladan and Elrohir took their leave just a short while later. I glimpsed the hint in Elladan's eyes that I would be seeing him after a while. Haldan finally got his chance to have his long awaited examination of me.

"Go get ready for bed and then call for me," he said.

I frowned. "Just how detailed an examination are we talking about, Haldan?"

"Not detailed," he assured me, "but I do want to lay my hands directly onto your abdomen. So you need to be in somewhat of a state of undress."

I did as he asked, and as soon as I was in my bed—in my nightdress—I called out to him. He came right in, closing the door behind him. He drew a small wooden chair that I kept in the corner over to the bed and sat down. I'd already arranged myself, with my nightdress up to my ribs and the covers down far enough to give him ample room to examine me.

He wasted no time in putting his hands directly onto my abdomen, right over my womb. He kept them there for several seconds, sensing I knew not what. He then began to knead around on me, which didn't surprise me. I thought he might be trying to detect tumors or growths. It is what I would have done as a healer. But then he got up from the chair and scooted it back out of his way to kneel beside the bed. He placed his ear where his hands had felt, and I knew then exactly what he suspected.

I lay there barely able to breathe I was so distraught. I watched his face. His eyes were downcast for a few moments. He'd been carefully avoiding looking at me, but as the time crept on, his eyes finally met mine.

I sat straight up in my bed as he raised his head. "Haldan," I said with panic, "what are you sensing?"

He looked at me solemnly, but I could not tell his emotion from the expression on his face. It could have been anything from panic to anger. I simply could not tell.

"You are with child, Maeren," he said plainly. "By my estimation at its size, about four months along."

Even though I'd known exactly what he was going to say, hearing him say it made me feel as if someone had thrown me down and knocked all the air from my lungs.

"You are mistaken, Haldan," I finally whispered. Panic had stolen my breath as well as my voice. "What you are saying is impossible—completely impossible."

"You can misbelieve me if you wish to, Maeren," he said gravely. "I misbelieved myself until now. But I knew it when I embraced you this morning. And I also knew it just could not be. _Could_ it?"

"Of course it cannot be!" I said, louder than I had intended. "I am just going through the change, Haldan. That is all it is. There is no other explanation. You are wrong. _You are wrong!_"

Haldan could see I was becoming hysterical, so he set about calming me down. In his best 'healer's' voice he began to ask me questions.

"When was your last monthly course, Maeren?"

I didn't want to say. It coincided with exactly how far along he thought I would be, _if_ I were with child like he said that I was.

"I see," he said, when he knew I wasn't going to answer him. "Four months ago. Now I am going to get personal. Have there been any occasions when you have had contact with someone who might have got you in this condition?"

"Haldan," I said angrily, "you are insulting me! You know whom I have been with—the _only_ one I have been with—Elladan! He is an Elf, and I was told—_repeatedly_—that getting with child was not a possibility. For Valar's sake we've been involved for years! Why now? Why not before, if it were going to happen at all?"

Haldan walked a short distance from me and stopped. He rubbed at his eyes with weary fingers, as if he were very tired, or perhaps trying to make sense of the senseless.

Turning back toward me he said, "I take it this was not something you and Elladan planned?" The irony in his voice was unmistakable.

I shook my head. "_If it is true_, there was certainly no planning in this disaster!" I replied loudly.

Haldan frowned at me, obviously taking exception to my last words. "_If it is true_?" he asked pointedly. "I am a healer, Maeren; I know what I know."

I closed my eyes momentarily, trying to collect myself. When I opened them again, it was to gaze at Haldan's face. My friend, whom I loved with all my heart, whom I thought I could trust implicitly, and always thought he felt the same about me—did not believe me. I could see open suspicion in his eyes.

"You doubt me," I said, "don't you?"

He looked at me cautiously. "You doubt me, too." He'd chosen to defend himself, rather than admit his uncertainty about my truthfulness.

"If you were any other healer, I'd say you needed to go back for further training," I told him. "But you aren't _just_ any healer, Haldan! You are an Elf trained by Elrond, and beyond that, you are my friend, who would never tell me something untrue."

"And likewise," he said hesitantly, "you are my friend, who has never, nor would you ever, lie to me. I _know_ these things deep in my heart." He paused for a moment, as if he doubted what he was saying. His tone was vague and dubious.

As he continued he shook his head, his voice turning even more doubtful, "But this circumstance—you being with child, and it obviously is not of your choice to be so, yet you claim the child's father is an Elf. It is too questionable to be believed." His face had taken on a far away expression, as if he were trying to decipher this puzzle before him.

I'm sure my face fell with the knowledge that he'd term my declaration of this child's sire as questionable. I looked at him—his beautiful face—so full of innocence most of the time. But his agelessness was showing right now—his ancient certainty that what I was proposing as fact just could not be.

"So what do we do with our doubts, Haldan?" I asked him bluntly.

I watched his expression as he thought about how to answer me. His face held uncertainty at first. I could plainly see the conflict he felt. But slowly, he relaxed.

"I suppose we must replace any doubts we might have with faith," he said haltingly.

"Faith?" I asked.

"Yes, faith," he answered. "Faith that we know each other exactly as well as we think we do. Faith that we will have answers at some point, _or_ faith that we can work this through without answers at all. _Faith_."

All I could think of at the moment was thankfulness that he did not dismiss my claims outright. He was tempted to, I could tell, but because of our friendship, he was giving me the benefit of his doubt.

_How big of him, _had been my first thought. This was more of a shock for me than for him. I'd obviously been deceived—lied to or played for a fool.

I lay back in my bed, exhausted beyond all words. _A baby? Now? I was forty-two years old, for Valar's sake."_

Haldan pulled my nightdress down and the covers up over me, tucking me in, as he would have a small child. His face was that of a young man, and while it was hard for me to fathom, he was thousands of years old, having seen and done more things than I could ever imagine. _And this shocked him_.

He sat on the edge of my bed. "Try not to worry about this, Maeren," he said, vaguely, as if he were making an effort to think it through while he spoke, but having no luck. I knew he was trying as hard as he could to believe what I was telling him. "We will think of what to do later. Right now we just need to digest this turn of events. All will work out as it should, of that I have no uncertainty. You believe that, do you not?"

"I am trying to, Haldan," I said tiredly. I could barely look at him, seeing that doubt in his eyes. _Doubt about me_.

We sat in silence for a few minutes before I spoke.

"Did Elladan lie to me?" I asked him angrily. My fury increased every time I thought of the one who had insisted our coupling would result in no offspring. My voice grew irate as I thought out loud. "He told me that Elves always chose when to conceive children; that Elven babies were never accidental. And if that is so, then how can this be? Did he decide by himself he wanted a child without consulting me? Would it work in that fashion?"

Haldan smiled at me then, trying to lessen my wrath. "I think it would not work in that fashion, even if Elladan were inconsiderate enough to do such a thing—_which_ he is not," he added confidently.

"I suppose I should expect you would take his side," I said angrily. "After all, you've known him much longer than you've known me. What am I but a fleeting moment in your eternal life?" I hated the venom I could hear in my own voice, and aimed at Haldan, whom I truly loved.

"You might as well not get nasty," he said haughtily. "You'll not be rid of me that easily."

I could tell he was trying to ease this tension between us, the strain so tight it would twang like a bowstring if it could be physically touched. I took a deep breath, calming myself.

"I am sorry, Haldan," I finally said. "But Elladan has done this thing to me, and I am left stuck with the consequences, and with no one who will believe what I say!"

"He truly is talented if he could do this thing by himself with no help at all from you," he said right back to my angry tirade.

One of his eyebrows lifted and the left side of his mouth twitched. I could not smile, though, much to my dismay, but he smiled at me in spite of my somberness.

"Let's not get crosswise with one another, Maeren," Haldan said. "I love you truly; you know that I do. But I must go reflect on this. There has to be some explanation I am not thinking of, but right now it escapes me. I'm a genius, to be sure, but even I have lapses every now and then.

"Getting back to your original question—if Elladan could have chosen to have a child without your knowledge or consent, I truly think the answer is 'no'. But since you are Human, I cannot say without doubt that it could not happen that way. We must ask him. Oh, I do not relish the thought of posing that question to him, but I will, if need be." He brushed a wayward strand of hair out of my face. "In our world—that of Elves—_both _parents make a conscious decision that a baby will be conceived, and then it is. It is as simple as that."

"Simple," I said. "I wish this were simple." _There I went, wishing again._

His expression shifted to one of compassion, as if he remembered I was still one of his best friends, and he would not let this problem come between us. Smiling once more, he asked, "Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?"

I shook my head and assured him I would be fine on my own.

"Is Elladan coming back tonight?" he asked.

He frowned with feigned dismay when he added, "Do I need to stay and make sure you do not murder him?"

Then the contrived alarm left his face and was replaced with true apprehension. "Or, Valar forbid, that he not murder you?"

I wanted to ask Haldan on what grounds would Elladan ever think of murdering me, and then I realized that if Haldan did not believe me, then Elladan might not either.

"If he dares to show himself here again tonight, there may be some shouting, to be sure," I said, my anger rising at this insane situation again. "But I doubt there will be outright murder, at least not on my part. Although it sounds tempting at the moment!"

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

**A/N: I would like to sincerely thank the reviewers so far, who have kindly taken the time to leave their thoughts: Radbooks, Song in the Woods, Erika, Alanic, and Shireling. Having feedback truly helps. **

**Well, this chapter starts the A/U-ness of this story. Very far-fetched in Tolkien's world, that's for sure. And who would think the same thing could happen to Maeren twice in her lifetime, when she is obviously a pretty smart lady? What are the odds? Not very good. Sorry for asking you who are reading this to stretch your mind around this weird tale, but it took hold of me and I wanted to explore it. I've never successfully paired an Elf and a Human before. We'll see if I can do it this time...  
**


	4. Of Love and Despair

_Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien._

I sat in my rocking chair, the quilt from my bed wrapped entirely around me. Even with the cover's warmth I still felt cold, and I shivered uncontrollably. But I think it isn't the coolness of the house that has me chilled, but the cold pit of fear deep in my belly.

After Haldan had gone, I'd left my bed and made my way into the main room of my house. I felt closer to my father sitting in this chair he had built. I needed his strength for what I now faced.

I hadn't felt this bone-numbing fear since—well, since the last time I found myself unwed but with child. My tryst with Aragorn had borne fruit, and Leofa was the result of it. Now it was twelve years later, and here I was again in the same situation.

The same situation, yet different. When I'd found myself with child after my one night with Aragorn, the complications had been greater. I was away from home and family, unmarried, and had to resign my post as Warden in Minas Tirith's Houses of Healing. That had been a mighty blow to me, but paled when compared to the outright terror I'd had at wondering just what to do about my predicament. When to tell Aragorn? How to tell him? What to do about the fact that—even had I given one moment's thought to marrying him—which I definitely had not—he was already promised to Arwen. I had been alone and afraid. If not for Faramir, I know not what I would have done.

All had worked out then, just as Haldan assured me it would now. I was not alone in my anguish—Haldan was a stalwart friend. But things were different. Again I would be resigning from being the Warden in the Houses of Healing, this time in Edoras. It was probably the complete and total weariness I felt at the present, but giving up that post would be the least of my troubles. Of course I had no intention of being heavy with child and unmarried here in Edoras. I would avoid that at all costs. How, I did not know right now. Telling Leofa would be difficult to say the least. His low opinion of me would, without doubt, be much lower after he learned of this. But he loved Elladan, so I think my son would be forgiving of him at least. I was not so sure he would ever forgive me.

I suppose the largest difference in the situations is the father of this baby. An Elf, not a Human, as I am. And my being with with this child is, according to any Elf, an impossibility. So the prospect of telling Elladan leaves me cold. When I try and picture myself doing so, and seeing the doubt and mistrust in his eyes when he doesn't believe me, the coldness inside me turns to ice. If Haldan could barely accept what I told him as true, how would Elladan react? I was afraid with all my being that he would think me false—that he'd not believe me when I told him the truth—he is going to be a father, despite the fact that he is an Elf. My anger is great right now, at feeling deceived by him, but if Elladan doubts me when I tell him about the baby—that he is the sire despite all he believes—I know not what I will do.

I love Elladan absolutely, more than I thought myself to ever be capable of loving again. If he insists he cannot have sired my child, it will shatter my heart into millions of pieces. He has told me times uncounted how much he loves me. I suppose this will prove it one way or another, will it not?

I still did not want to believe what Haldan had told me, but I knew in my heart he wasn't wrong. I'd felt puny for weeks, but had pushed it away, thinking it was my difficulties with Leofa that had my stomach in knots. And the fact that my monthly courses had stopped made me believe that I truly was entering the change of life all women endure as they grow older. It is a bit early, yet not unheard of, for such a thing to occur at my age. But everything made sense now—well, everything but how I got this way in the first place.

When we'd first become intimate, Elladan and I had talked about this. He assured me there was no danger of me conceiving. He'd told me Elves chose when to have babies. I'd not thought to ask him if he would ever think to choose without me. He obviously had, or everything he'd told me had been a lie. My only crime—other than being stupid enough to lie with a male without benefit of vows—was being stupid enough to believe him at all.

It's growing quite late, and I'm sure Elladan will be here before long, yet I do not want to see him. I'm still too angry. I will say things to him I will regret. I lit the fire in the hearth before I sat down, so he should be able to tell that someone is about by the light shining beneath my door. That could keep him away. Perhaps he won't come after all…

I am so angry with him for deceiving me—even though Haldan assured me there could have been no deception on Elladan's part. If that were so, then how could this have occurred at all? If he'd not outright lied to me, he must have failed to tell me something very important.

All these thoughts kept circling around in my mind. I didn't want to think about them, yet I couldn't stop.

With child. At forty-two. And unmarried—again.

_What in Eru's name was I going to do this time?_

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I woke up the following morning in my bed. I do not remember rising and getting there on my own, so I assume Elladan did indeed come, and finding me sleeping, carried me to my room. I was exhausted, so I suppose I should not wonder that I did not awaken in the process. I was glad. I did not want to see him. Thinking about him was bad enough, but coming face to face with him right now would anger me beyond reason.

Anger and fear took up my entire mind. _How would he take the news? What would he say? Would he believe me? What would I do if he did not?_

I wanted to just stay abed for eternity, yet I knew I could not. Life went on, even if I did not want to live mine at the moment. There were patients to see in the Houses of Healing, and they would not see to themselves. I hoped little Aldwin was improved today. It never did any boy—little or not—any good to be cooped up for long.

I rose and got myself ready for my day. The woman looking back in the mirror at me was pale and looked as if a stiff wind might blow her away. I could and probably would plead sickly after I'd seen to little Aldwin and anyone else who might have been brought into the wards. I knew I would not be able to keep my mind on anything other than what I'd become preoccupied with since Haldan's examination of me last night.

I walked down the street and entered the Healing Halls only to find Haldan playing with the much-improved Aldwin, and keeping a steady discourse going with the child's mother. Aldwin had been quiet and out of sorts yesterday. His demeanor this morning was that of a child who was well. The adults glanced up as I approached, and by the look on their faces, they obviously thought it was I who was ill.

But I smiled and straightened my spine and got to the work of examining my patient. I asked Aldwin's mother how he had fared during the night. She felt that all was now well with her son. I agreed and advised her to take him home whenever she would.

Thankfully, there were no others in the wards, so I greeted Selwyn and received the report she had to give from her overnight hours. Lisemma came in, and I put her to work making order of the herb cabinet. Haldan and I then went to my office and closed the door.

I sat but didn't speak. Haldan looked at me with his beautiful eyes. I could not tell whether those eyes held pity or doubt this morning. The longer I gazed at him, the more I leant toward doubt.

"Did you speak to Elladan last night, Maeren?" he finally asked me.

"No," I answered vaguely and didn't elaborate. I knew not what to say. _I certainly knew not what to do about any of this._

"Would you like for me to speak to him for you?" he asked kindly.

"What would you say, Haldan?" I asked, the words suddenly bursting from my mouth. "Maybe you'd say, 'I see Maeren's with child, Elladan—how in Eru's name could she have gotten that way?' Or perhaps you'd say instead, 'Maeren's with child, Elladan. She most assuredly has been with someone else behind your back?'"

Haldan looked stricken, but I could not allow myself to care. I could tell he still did not believe me, and if I was not telling him the truth, then in his mind, I must have some Mortal lover I'd been carrying on with.

I rose from my desk and faced the bookshelves lining one wall. In only a few moments, Haldan placed his hands on my shoulders. Of course, I'd not heard him approach, so he'd startled me. _Damn Elves and their silent footsteps_.

"I would tell him that the woman he loves needs him very badly," Haldan said, almost whispering into my ear.

"How do you know he loves me?" I asked, with sadness in my voice. I had not bothered to turn toward him. "Has he told you such?"

"He need not tell me," Haldan said quietly. "One only need look at his face as he gazes at you to know it is true."

He turned me around to face him, then said, "I know you have lain with no others, Maeren. I know you—you are not that type of woman. And you _told_ me you have not, and I believe you, because I know you would not lie to me."

I fell into his arms, relieved because I had finally seen in his eyes, as he spoke those last words, that he did truly believe what I'd told him. After a few moments, I stepped back from him and said, "I'm sorry for being such a witch, Haldan."

He chuckled and told me, "As long as you keep your broom to yourself, I do not mind."

I smiled too, for the first time since I'd learned of the mess I was in.

He led me back to my chair and sat me down, then sat himself back down in his own.

"You look like a deer that has come face to face with a hunter whose bow is drawn and taut," he said. "Take the terror from your heart, Maeren. One thing you are _not_ in this is alone."

"I know you are right, Haldan," I said after awhile. "But I so fear what Elladan is going to say. I fear it and I loathe it, and he's not yet even said it. He will react in the same way you did, only more so. I'm already angry for being in this condition when he assured me it would not happen. Add to that how mad I will be if he denies his child, and I may never speak to him again, much less agree to have his baby."

Haldan frowned. "You don't mean that, do you Maeren?" he asked. "The part about not agreeing to have the child?" I watched his eyes search my face, trying to discern my answer there. "You would never do anything to rid yourself of the baby, would you?"

I didn't reply to him at first, because I did not know the answer myself. I was tired. Bone tired. Of dealing with my thirteen-year-old son, who was forever angry with me; of even thinking of starting over with babies and nappies, when I could have become a grandmother by now, if Tristin were alive; of the thought of trying to convince an Elf that he was indeed going to become a father, whether or not he thought it possible.

But I knew in my heart that I would never try and rid myself of a baby. I knew how—every healer did. Some circumstances called for such drastic action. And while this circumstance was definitely not to my liking, it certainly wasn't dire enough to call for that sort of deed. Not really. It would be convenient and easier, for sure. But afterward, would I be able to bear the guilt of doing such a thing? _I think not_.

"No, Haldan," I finally said, "I would do nothing to rid myself of this trouble. It is tempting, but I am a healer—and a mother. I could not live with myself if I tried to use such a remedy to ease my problem."

"You are calling it a trouble and a problem, Maeren," he said solemnly. "It is a baby, that is all. A defenseless, miraculous baby. One that by all rights should not even exist. It must be here for a purpose, or it would not be."

"I cannot think of it in those terms yet, Haldan," I said. "As you've just told me, it should not exist, and I have not been able—thus far—to think that it does. I believe it on some level because you say it is so. That is the only reason I believe it at all."

"Well do believe this, then," he said gently. "I placed my ear over your womb last night, and there was a beating heart that I heard. So you can know it on all levels. I am not mistaken, Maeren. You are with child."

I looked away. I believed Haldan. I just did not want to.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I had gone home shortly afterward, and Haldan went with me. He insisted I go directly to my bed. He told me I looked as if I'd not slept in a week, and he would make sure I rested, even though I was almost frantic when I thought of the events of the past several hours. Resting was the furthest thing from my mind.

Haldan made me chicken soup for lunch, from the leftovers of our meal last night. It was very good, so I asked him how he came about knowing how to make something so delicious. He would not tell me the secret—told me it was an Elven mystery. _I was _sure _that it was…_

Elrohir and Elladan came shortly past noon. I was still in my bed because Haldan insisted I not rise. I was fully clothed, but I had the quilt pulled up over my legs, and I was propped up on pillows in bed. Haldan might be able to make me rest, but even I couldn't make me sleep, since my mind wasn't about to quit its churning.

I could hear their voices in the other room. My heart began racing. If I knew Haldan—and I did—Elladan would be in here shortly because he would know I had something to tell him. _Drat Haldan sometimes._

It was not long before there was a quiet rap at my bedroom door. I told Elladan to enter—I had no doubt it was he. He came in, closing the door behind him. The expression on his face showed concern, but he looked as if he knew nothing of what I was about to disclose.

Seeing him made my anger spike to fever pitch. All the fury I'd felt at him when I first learned of the baby came rushing back. I had to bite angry words to keep them from escaping my lips. My face must have mirrored my reaction because his brows drew together in a frown.

"Haldan said you have something to tell me," Elladan started, "and it looks to be something unpleasant. What has you abed in the middle of the day, Maeren?"

"Something you've done to me," I said acidly.

He seemed puzzled. "Something _I've_ done?" he asked. Then his eyes lit with dawning, as if he'd figured out exactly what I was angry about.

He came and sat beside me on the bed and took my hands. I pulled at them, trying to retrieve them from his grasp, but he held on to them.

"Maeren," he said in a sickeningly placating tone, "you do not have to send Leofa to Gondor if you truly do not want to. If it is making you this upset, I'll not allow him to go back with us when we leave."

I gave one last pull and my hands came free of his.

"Leofa going to Gondor is the least of my worries at present," I told him. I could see him deflate, realizing he was in trouble with me, and he honestly did not know why.

I decided to not prolong this agony, for agony it was. I would just tell him. I must or go insane.

"Haldan thought me unwell yesterday, so he insisted on examining me last night, after you'd gone. He found something I thought impossible—something _you_ told me yourself was not possible—but he assures me he is _not _wrong. And before I tell you what he determined, I advise you to think before you speak. It will ruin our relationship if you do not." I paused, looking into his eyes, so that he would know I meant exactly what I'd said.

"I am with child, Elladan. _Your _child."

All color drained from his face, which was pale anyway. His skin was almost translucent, his face was so bloodless. He looked as if I had slapped him with my hand instead of mere words. Then his brows drew together as if he were trying to puzzle out what I was presenting to him.

I watched as his expression changed, minute by minute, going from completely shocked and bewildered, then to mystified, until it slowly turned to one of suspicion. _Exactly as I thought he'd do._

"Elladan—" I said in warning.

"What am I supposed to say to news such as this?" he asked me, clearly angry. He got up from the bed. "It is not possible that I would be the father of your child. Would you care to explain to _me_ how you might have got this way?"

I was not shocked by his response; I had feared this would be his reaction. I supposed anger would be my greatest emotion, but I'd been wrong. I was so hurt I could barely breathe. I wanted to look at anything in the room except him, but my eyes were riveted to his, and the anger I saw in his gaze saddened me even more. Saddened me yes, but scared me somewhat as well.

Yet I refused to be cowed. He was the one at fault in this, after all. Several moments ticked by and I finally said, "I suppose we have nothing further to discuss then. If you honestly believe I would get with child—by someone other than you—and then try and pass it off as yours—" I could not continue.

"I would never have imagined my need to believe such things!" he said, his voice rising just the slightest bit. I saw a momentary flash of hurt in his eyes, but it fled quickly, and was again replaced with quiet rage. "But I have no choice. I know what I've always known. I could not have got you with this child. The only thing I can believe is what is obvious—you grew tired of waiting for me to come to you, so you sought out another."

"Surely you cannot question my word about something as important as this; not after all the years you have known me," I said, and I cringed at the pleading in my voice.

I saw conflict in his gaze for mere seconds, but then his anger took him over again.

"If Estel's face were not virtually written onto Leofa's, I would be questioning Leofa's paternity now as well."

"Get out," I said, almost shrieking, as I rose from the bed. The hurt all but choked me. "And stay gone. I wish to not see you again in my lifetime. To have you get me with child—when you assured me it could not happen—and then not only shirk your responsibility, but accuse me of being free with my favors— I will never accept such treatment from you—"

He grabbed me by the upper arms and shook me slightly, not really hurting me at all, just trying to make a point with me I assume. "Explain yourself! How did this happen? When?" His voice was angry and loud.

It was as though I'd not spoken at all; like he'd not heard a word that I'd said. It was as if he had only my supposed treachery in his mind, and he could not even acknowledge the idea that things could be exactly as I said they were.

I never thought I would ever be afraid of Elladan, but at this moment I was. If not for the tears glistening in his eyes, I might have thought he could kill me in his rage. I suppose that is what gave me the cheek to keep shouting at him.

"I would have you explain yourself first!" I yelled. "I trusted you when you told me this could not happen, but it has. So now you can just tell me how it did!"

"I've already told you the only way it could have happened!" he shouted. "The truth is all I've ever told you, which is more than you can say to me. You have betrayed me and are now being false to save yourself trouble I suppose. You've shared yourself with someone else!" He let me go and paced a short distance away and then turned back to me. "I truly thought Leofa's conception was from one time with Aragorn. But now I am not so sure. Perhaps Aragorn was just one of many."

I felt as if he'd physically hit me. All my bravado was gone. I stood there stunned and breathless from his poisonous words to me.

As if by magic Haldan suddenly appeared in the doorway. I suppose he might have knocked and then opened the door to enter, but I'd not heard it. I was in shock. Having Elladan speak such filth to me—and mean what he said—was something I could not grasp.

I could see Haldan's lips move, but could not make out what he was saying. Perhaps he was speaking Elvish, or maybe I was in such distress I could not decipher words. One thing I knew, though, is that he was very angry. His eyes flashed fire, and I'd not believed his sweet face could look quite so vicious.

He took Elladan by the arm and pulled him physically out of the room, closing the door behind them. I was once again alone.

I heard the outer door to my house crash closed, so I assumed Elladan had finally gone. I was very glad.

It was over. The confrontation I'd feared. And all my fears had borne fruit. My life had changed drastically and not ten minutes had passed. I sat on the edge of my bed. My body trembled so badly I could not remain standing.

One might think a load would be lifted, at disclosing news that would shock another. But the load was still with me, only heavier than before. I was with child, without the support and love of the child's father. Indeed, if I read Elladan's face at all, I no longer had his love, I had his hatred.

I sat on my bed shaking with reaction to the bitter argument I'd just had with Elladan. I could not count on him at all in this, even though the burden was his to bear as much as it was mine. Haldan assured me I'd not be alone in this. But he was sworn to Elrond's family. Could he keep such a promise to me?

I lay down in my bed and finally gave in to the tears that had threatened throughout this whole nightmare.

What was I going to do? Perhaps I'd been too hasty when I told Haldan I would never rid myself of this problem. I could not imagine having this baby. I was too old; its father was nowhere to be seen—

_I was alone._

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I must have fallen asleep, because sometime later, I was awakened when Haldan sat on the edge of my bed. He felt of my brow, I suppose to reassure himself that I was well. My eyes felt almost as if they had weights holding them closed, but I was finally able to open them and gaze at his face.

He looked so distressingly sad. I knew not if the pity was for me, for Elladan or for the poor, defenseless baby I carried. Perhaps it was for all three of us.

"Is there anything I might do for you, Maeren?" he asked me quietly.

"You could tell me what on earth I am going to do with this problem I seem to have acquired," I answered him. "I've told Elladan to go away and never come back."

His hand sought mine and held it tightly. "I know," he said. "I heard. And Elladan told me as much himself."

He had my full attention now.

"You spoke to him? What else did he say?" I asked, sure that Haldan could hear the despair in my voice, as I waited for him to tell me that my Elven lover did not—and would never—believe that I had _his_ child within me.

Haldan looked as if he battled himself—whether to tell me the truth or say what I might want to hear.

"First," Haldan said, "I must tell you he did not mean the horrible things that he said."

"Did he tell you that, Haldan," I asked quietly, "or is that something you assume?"

"He did not need to tell me," Haldan said. "Remember, I've known him and his brother for thousands of years. I know somewhat of how they act and react."

He paused for just a moment, and then went on. "Something you already know of Elves is that we all have heightened senses. Our eyesight and hearing are well above the range of Humans. But something you may not be aware of is that the same can be said of our emotions. It takes a long time for an Elf to master those, I can tell you, and at times they refuse to be mastered. That is why fifty is considered to be the majority age for an Elf. Before then, he can be very childish—impulsive, if you will—in his reactions to stress or anger. It has been long since I've seen either of the sons of Elrond in such a state as Elladan was in earlier.

"I will now come to the point of answering your original questions. Yes I spoke to him. Elrohir and I followed him out the door when he left, and we made him ride out of Edoras a ways to be out of earshot of any and all. Then we talked to him—long. Unfortunately, he doesn't believe you. And he's hurt; hurt more so than I've seen him hurt in a very long while."

"Right now I cannot muster enough will to care whether he hurts or not," I said. "He deserves to be in pain, after all the horrible things he said to me."

"Well, of course you are right," Haldan said. Something in his eyes told me to beware of his words. "But I suppose that somewhere deep inside of us, we know that we love him in spite of his flaws." He looked at me out of the corners of his eyes. "Very, very deep down inside of us?"

I smiled in spite of my melancholy. "It is hard right now to remember I love him," I commented. "You know, Haldan; I never told him of my love of him. I never wanted to give him any reason to choose a Mortal life, and if he knew I loved him—if I acknowledged it—I was afraid he might so choose."

"Do you think—perhaps—that might be a key to his anger now?" Haldan asked me. "He all along thought that you loved him, but if you never told him so, now he might doubt it? Doubt your love, as well as your fidelity?"

I looked at him uncomfortably. "Since I never dreamed of being in the position in which I find myself, I obviously didn't think of the consequences of my actions; or inactions in this case."

"Time, my dear Maeren," he said. "It will take time for both of you to get past this hurt. But I have every confidence that you can."

"We don't have copious amounts of time, Haldan," I said. "If I am already four months along—which we both know that I am—that leaves only five months to mend this rift between us, if it can be mended. If Elladan even wants that. If I even do."

"It leaves you eight months, Maeren," he said, his eyebrows raised.

At my confusion, he finished his thought. "You carry an Elven baby—Peredhil most probably, but of the Elven persuasion. A full year's gestation, my dear."

I must've grown pale, because Haldan frowned and placed his hands on either side of my face. I felt that familiar tingle whenever an Elf touched me. He was giving me his strength, and he obviously felt that I needed bolstering after his shocking announcement to me.

"Twelve months?" I asked wanly. "Twelve? An entire year?"

"I am afraid so," he said quietly.

I exhaled loudly and braced my spine. "Well, since this child is an anomaly anyway, maybe it'll be fully Human instead, and I'll only have to endure a nine month term."

"A nice thought for you," Haldan said with a smile, "but highly unlikely, if Elladan is this child's father." He patted my hand.

"_If_?" I asked, beginning to bristle again.

"Merely a turn of the phrase, Maeren," he said, trying to soothe me. "Of course I meant 'since'. _Since_ Elladan is the child's father."

I calmed down instantly, hoping I'd managed to put a contrite look on my face.

"I suppose you are right," I admitted. After a few moments I said, "How did I get myself into such a mess as this, Haldan? How could I have been so stupid?"

"Stupid is completely the wrong word," Haldan said smugly. I wondered what word he would offer in 'stupid's' place. I had no doubt that he would have one.

"I think stupidity didn't enter into this at all, really," he said matter-of-factly. "Stubbornness, yes; stupidity, no. Had you but bonded with Elladan when he first asked you to, this mess wouldn't be a mess at all, but a blessing. He's loved you since almost the first time he laid eyes on you, you know."

"How do you know this, Haldan?" I asked him. "Did Elladan tell you this himself?"

"As I told you before, Elrohir and I talked to him long. Much was said, and that was among the things that he told us. He is devastated, you know, although when he was here with you before, you would not have known that necessarily. He was very cruel to you."

"Well if he would simply think," I said, "and remember who I am—who I've always been to him, he would see that I would not lie about something of this significance. He would not be hurting, but trying to help me figure out how this happened and what to do about it. Why, Haldan? Why is he being so stubborn?"

"He is being stubborn, as you call it, because this situation goes against everything he's ever held as fact. There are certain things Elves know without doubt, and you are asking him to believe something completely foreign to him."

"You believe me, Haldan," I said. "Why can he not?"

"He has more at stake in this than I do," he replied. "His very heart is on the line. I love you, but he _loves_ you."

"I would think that would make it easier for him to believe what I tell him, not harder," I said.

"Well it isn't easier, Maeren," he told me, sighing deeply. "He's proud and he loves you. And what he has always known is that Elves choose conception dates for their children. Since he's obviously not done that—with or without you—he can draw only one other conclusion: that you have been untrue to him.

"I know you and he did not have vows said between you," Haldan continued, "but the way he feels about you, you may as well have said them years ago. I believe that as time goes by, he will remember all that you've both said and done, and he will know that you would not be so deceptive. He knows—somewhere in his hurt-clouded mind—who you are and what you stand for. He will remember it—I hope sooner rather than later—and he will come to you, and the two of you can bring forth this new life together, not apart."

"I know not if you are right, Haldan," I told him. "And right now, I'm not sure I'd ever have him back, whether he has faith in me or not. The things he said to me. I'll never forget his face or his anger, or the very inflection in his voice as he slandered me."

We sat there quietly with one another, pondering, I suppose, all that we'd said. And then a disturbing thought occurred to me.

"Haldan," I said haltingly, "could Elladan have chosen to become Human without telling anyone he'd decided to do so? That is another explanation for my being with child—if he were Human, these results would not be shocking at all."

I could tell I'd surprised him with my question. "I suppose it is possible, but unlikely," he answered. "I do not think he would have chosen such without consulting you, since it would be you that he would be making the choice for."

I winced as he voiced exactly what I'd feared since I'd become involved with Elladan. I in no way wanted to be the cause of a Peredhil to make a decision such as this.

"Then I suppose I can scratch that possibility as invalid," I said.

We sat a few moments longer, with neither of us uttering a word. Haldan finally broke the silence.

"Although your hurt appears to be ten fold, you seem not quite so angry as before," Haldan said. "Is that true or am I deluding myself?"

"You are not deluding yourself," I said. "I've been thinking about our argument. When I told Elladan about the baby, he was completely shocked and bewildered at first. As if he wondered how it could be, that the two of us could become parents without first choosing to be so. It wasn't until he thought about it more that his suspicions came to him.

"So his first emotion was bewilderment. It was right there for me to see that Elladan did not deceive me in any way—at least not purposely. I could not see it at the time, though, until I'd told him to go and not come back. I regret that in a way, because it is as you've said: he knows only what he's always known. But I'm hurt because he does not believe or trust in me.

"I believed _him_ when he told me I could not get with child by coupling with him. Why does he not remember that? I was told to believe something I now know to be untrue. I've been with no other—Elladan is the only possible father of this child. And I'm the only one who knows that. And he does not believe me. I'm not sure I can ever forgive him for that, Haldan."

"When that baby comes out of you looking like him, Elladan will believe it, Maeren," Haldan said.

"He had better believe it _before_ the baby comes out and looks just like him, Haldan," I said quietly. "I truly will not have him back if he cannot trust in me without some sort of tangible proof."

"Then we will pray he comes to his senses in time," Haldan said so seriously, I knew he was jesting with me. Even though I could not smile, he smiled at me.

Leave it to Haldan to try and make my world not quite so grave, when thoughts of ever being happy again were almost as impossible to imagine as me having a baby at my age.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	5. Mending and Planning

_Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien._

I rose, to the ceaseless protests of Haldan, a little while later. He insisted I had not rested enough after my confrontation with Elladan. But I insisted that I had.

I prepared toasted cheese sandwiches for him and me, as well as what was leftover of the chicken soup from lunch. We sat down to our small supper, just the two of us. There was enough pie left from the night before that we could share a piece. We were both satisfied by the time we'd finished.

We then sat over tea discussing alternative plans for my upcoming life—being with child, and then having said child, and where to reside during the entire process. I truly did not want to stay here. My brothers would more than likely wash their hands of me, since this was not the first time this very thing had befallen me. I could not count on them understanding at all, even though they'd been very accepting of me when I'd brought Leofa back home with me twelve years ago. But with or without their support, I didn't feel confident staying in Edoras.

"What would you say to returning to Imladris, Maeren?" Haldan asked me.

I thought about that for a few moments. I loved Rivendell. It was beautiful and peaceful, and this time, it wouldn't be foreign to me at all. Yet I did not know how I would ever be able to endure being there without Elrond. Elrond had built the Last Homely House, and it would seem an empty dwelling without his quietly elegant presence.

Celeborn would be lord there now. I had met him briefly in Minas Tirith before Arwen and Aragorn's wedding, so I knew of him. But to live with him, when he more than likely would not believe I carried Elladan's child any more than Elladan did, caused me to hesitate.

"Know you anything of Celeborn, Haldan?" I asked him. "It would be into his home I would be stepping. I'm unsure of my welcome."

"I know him well," Haldan assured me. "If I say you should be welcomed, you will be."

"I would love to go back there," I mused. "It is such a beautiful place."

"Then that is where I will take you," he said. "When can we leave?"

I was a little taken aback by his hurry. He'd told me himself my confinement this time would be twelve months. I wondered when I would begin to show. Certainly it would be later than it usually occurs. It mattered not, however. The sooner these things were decided and carried out, the better. And I could not be choosy. I had a willing escort right here with me. I'd be a fool to put up any barriers for him.

"I must resign my post at the Houses of Healing," I said. "Then tell my brothers—"

I frowned, wondering what I would tell them. The truth did not appeal to me right now, because I was terrible at lying. Elladan knew about my inability to tell anything but the absolute truth, although it had apparently slipped his mind at the time of our argument. I wondered if he would remember this small thing about me before our child was born.

Haldan took up where I'd left off. "You will tell your brothers that you are going to Gondor to stay with Leofa. That you've thought about it, and you just do not want him out of your life for any length of time and to blazes with any secret you might expose in the process of living there."

I smiled at my friend, but then grew serious. "I am not sure I can spew such tales, when it is barely possible as a story I might tell at all. I am horrible at telling falsehoods."

"Then let me tell them," Haldan said confidently. "I have no problem spewing tales, be they true or not."

I laughed. And then we sat with our tea. I must have looked sad again, because Haldan reached across the table and took my hand.

"Worry not, Maeren," he said in his quiet wisdom, "Elladan will come around. Just wait and see." I had not known that one of Haldan's many talents was reading minds. It seemed as if he'd just read mine.

Then someone knocked at my door, surprising me. I called for whomever it was to enter. There was no one in Edoras I would not welcome into my home. Well, except perhaps for one Elf that I was angry with at the present time, but I did not expect him anytime soon.

It was Elrohir, and that surprised me. We'd long since sidestepped formality, and the Elves rarely bothered announcing their presence by rapping on my door before entering. He'd probably just come from his brother, so I did not know what to expect, but if he was insisting on knocking before he came in, I anticipated the worst.

I invited him to sit down with Haldan and me, and he accepted. I rose and got the kettle, making him a cup of tea, which he thanked me for. I could tell he had something on his mind, but he evidently either hadn't worked up the courage to broach the subject yet, or he was trying to decide how to go about it.

"Should I leave?" Haldan asked him. "If you would wish to speak to Maeren alone, I do not mind making scarce of myself."

"No, Haldan," Elrohir said. "That will not be necessary."

Then Elrohir looked at me, his penetrating gaze making me fidget.

"I've heard one side of the story from one of the parties," he said, "but I would hear it from the other's point of view."

I was tired unto death and had no stamina for anything other than the facts. If they offended Elrohir, I was terribly sorry, but he'd asked for the story from my perspective and I was going to tell him.

"I am with child, Elrohir," I said directly. "And your brother is this baby's father, no matter if he or you or any other Elf in this world believes it or not." I'd not been angry or irate in any fashion when I'd spoken. I simply told the truth as I saw it.

He continued to look at me intently for a few moments more, and finally turned to Haldan and said, "Whatever plans you are devising—and I am sure you are devising some—include me in them."

"We're going to Imladris," Haldan said, as I sat there open-mouthed at Elrohir's words.

"Elrohir," I said hesitantly, "do not do this. Do not do something that Elladan will see as a betrayal by you."

"Let me worry about my brother," Elrohir said, as if we were discussing the weather. "I will not leave you in your time of need, no matter who doesn't like it." He spoke plainly. He did not seem angry or happy or any emotion that I could decipher.

"Elrohir," I said, "Haldan will take me to Imladris. You need not be involved at all, although you know not how grateful I am by your offer of help."

"You once stood my me, in what were my darkest hours," he said. "I pushed you away and tried to coerce you, yet you stayed by my side. You offered your help, even when it almost lost you my friendship. I have not forgotten that. It is time I paid my debt to you, Maeren."

I remembered the time he spoke of well. Elladan had gone with the other Elves from Imladris to sail West, and Elrohir had stayed behind. The twins' separation unhinged Elrohir's mind. He'd begun to fade, as Elves tend to do, when grieved beyond what they can endure. He'd wanted to die, and he wanted my help to accomplish the deed, but I would not hear of it. I offered to take him myself, if need be, to the Gray Havens to sail West, but he would not go. He was being so stubborn about it, I was tempted to take him forcibly—as if I alone could have accomplished that deed. He was just wasting away before my eyes, and I'd felt entirely helpless, until Elrond had brought his brother back to him. Slowly their souls melded together again, and they became strong and whole once more.

"Elrohir," I said, "you owe me nothing. I loved you then, and I love you now. I could not bear to lose you, that's why I did as I did. I was selfish, if you would know the truth of it. You owe me no payment."

He continued to sit there, his face expressionless. I could not tell if he believed my claim about the baby being Elladan's or not, but I supposed to him, it didn't matter. He owed a debt and would pay, whether he thought my errand to be justified or not. He'd not said whom he believed in the battle between his brother and me, and I was not about to ask him.

The door practically burst open then and in walked Elladan. He did not bother with niceties or greetings.

"Elrohir," he said warningly, "I thought we agreed you wouldn't come here."

"You made that declaration," Elrohir answered calmly, "but I did not agree with you."

Elladan looked at me briefly, but turned his attention back to Elrohir. He began shouting in Elvish, and while I'd learned some words and phrases during my time living in Imladris, I could only make out the smallest parts of what they were arguing about.

They carried on like this for a few minutes, until Haldan had apparently had enough.

"Cease this!" he shouted at them. "We are guests in the lady's house, and this is not becoming of you."

Elladan said something in Elvish, and I could pick out the word lady, but nothing else. He was probably disparaging my virtue as any _lady._ I placed my elbows on the table and my face into my hands, unable to bear any of this any longer.

They all grew silent, yet someone left, the door shutting quietly as someone departed.

"Well, that was unpleasant," Elrohir commented. "Please accept my apologies, Maeren."

I glanced up at his words, and his face had not changed. He acted as if he'd not just had a monumental fight with his twin, and I still could not tell if he thought I told the truth about the baby, or if he believed me to be a liar and a whore as his brother did.

"No apologies necessary, Elrohir," I said. "But if you will excuse me, I must get to my bed. This has been a most trying day." I rose and left the two Elves sitting at the table.

Alone in my room, I got ready for bed. I took the pins from my hair and let it down, shaking it loose. My head hurt severely and this small thing felt so unbelievably good. I ran my fingers against my scalp for a few moments, then pulled the brush through my hair. Elladan had once called it the color of wheat with the sun setting on it. I put the brush down and gave in to the tears that were choking me.

To see Elladan so angry he'd shout fiercely at his twin tore at my heart. They were never at odds, that I could tell. Now they seemed split, and I was again the cause, as I had been years ago, when one left to sail West and the other came with me to Minas Tirith.

I would speak to Haldan tomorrow. I did not want Elrohir accompanying us. Not if it would cause this much trouble between the brothers.

I put on my nightdress and pulled down the bed covers. I got in, savoring the cool freshness of the sheets against my feet. I turned down the lamp until it was extinguished completely. And while I wanted to sleep—desperately sought it—sleep would not come.

Only more and more tears fell from my eyes, drowning me.

Would I get through the next few days? Weeks? Months? I did not see how. Elladan had become such a part of my heart, and now my heart seemed shattered.

How did one survive when their heart was broken? I had survived it once, when my husband and son were taken from me by fire, although how I accomplished it I still did not know. I thought I'd never endure heartbreak again—I had promised myself to never love another. I'd broken that promise, against my better judgment, and now I would pay.

But I'd broken no vows—verbal or implied—to Elladan.

If only he could see that.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I woke very early the next morning, as tired as I'd been the night before. The headache that had been plaguing me since yesterday had not abated. I wanted nothing more than to roll over and snuggle down into my quilt forever. Yet I knew that there were things to be done, the least of which was to see that Leofa got off to Gondor with clean and mended clothes.

Darning was not one of my favored chores, but I knew how to do it, thanks to my Mother, and it was a very good thing. Leofa was a terror on the clothes that he wore. He didn't mean to be, but it seemed as if every wayward branch from a tree or nail in a fence would reach out to tear holes in everything he owned. So after I rose and had my tea, as well as a few small feverfew leaves to ease my aching head, I placed all of my son's clothes that needed tending into a basket and fetched it with me to the Houses of Healing. If all was as quiet as I thought it would be, I would have plenty of time to do this task.

After I'd seen to any patients in the wards—there were two—I commenced to making my son's clothes decent for the royals in Gondor. I was very good with my needle, even though I did not much care for wielding it as a rule, so I made short work of my stack of darning.

As I cut the final thread, I knew I could not put off one of my chores a minute longer. It was not even mid-morning yet, as I'd come in at least an hour earlier than I usually did. I was determined to resign my post as Warden here in the Houses of Healing today. Now. Right this minute.

I did not look forward to telling my sovereign the story I had concocted. I hated lying to Eomer, but I was not prepared to tell him the truth. I judged myself harshly for my condition; how could I not expect others to do so, too? And I wasn't ready to see the disappointment in Eomer's eyes when he found me lacking in character.

Eomer knew me well, and he would sniff out anything extraordinary in my tale. So I had rehearsed what I'd planned to tell him over and over, as I'd plied my needle and thread to Leofa's clothes. It was now or never.

I left the wards, first telling Lisemma where I'd be if I were needed. I headed to Meduseld. It took not long—Edoras isn't that large. I was determined to not make a mess of this. Eomer would accept my story and that was that.

I stopped at the door, which was always guarded, although why, I did not know. What was there to be guarded now? The war was over. Grima was gone. Neither Orcs nor Mordor's spies plagued the countryside as they once had. I supposed it was solely for show these days, a 'royal' thing, though probably something dreamed up by Eomer's advisors and not by the king himself. Oh well, it really wasn't my problem, thanks be; I had problems enough of my own.

The man on duty there allowed me in without a word from either of us. He knew me, I knew him. No problem there. But just inside the large, wooden double doors was the _empty_ desk of Eomer's secretary.

I stood there momentarily, with my hands on my hips. I'd hoped to not have to make an appointment to see the king, but with this man gone, I could not even do that. It was the secretary who would permit me to see Eomer—or not. As I stood there thinking of what to do next, I heard the familiar voice of the king, but he was yelling at someone. His voice was raised in a way I hoped to never have it raised at me! I turned in time to see Eomer come into the main hall from a corridor to my left.

His frustrated expression lifted when he saw me and was replaced with a smile. It had been awhile since we'd spoken. I dipped my head and gave him the slightest curtsey. Eomer had nagged at me often enough that I did not make much of his rank these days, although I wanted to. I felt he deserved all the fussing over he could get. He was a teddy bear of a man, and sweet, too, although he would have skinned me alive if I ever said either thing aloud.

After he'd hugged me slightly, he held me away from him and frowned. I feared his humor was poor this morning, and I was not going to make it any better with my news.

"Maeren," he said, "you've been working too hard. You look tired and much too pale. Am I going to have to dismiss you to get you to rest as you should?"

"Oh you need not dismiss me, Eomer, because I quit!" I hoped I didn't grimace at the end of my pronouncement. Only belatedly did I think about the flippant way I had just talked to the king. Even though that is how we usually spoke to each other, I'd not taken into account his less than happy mood this morning. I would hate to have him yell at me—I knew he'd not take this news in a pleasant way, even before I'd heard him shouting at someone unseen when he'd first entered the hall.

He looked stunned for a moment, and then he smiled again. "You must have known I could use a good jest this morning," he said, "but I'd just as soon not have you jest in such a way. The Houses of Healing are something I never worry over, having you in charge of them."

"I am sorry, Eomer," I said. "But I am quite serious."

"Why would you do such a thing to me?" He almost whined. _At least he had not shouted at me, thanks be!_

"Leofa has been invited to Gondor, to train with the tower guard," I explained, "and I cannot let him go without me. It's simple, really." _Drat! I was speaking much too quickly; Eomer was going to be wise to me if I did not calm down and slow my words to a more acceptable pace…_

His brows came together as he digested what I'd told him. He knew my entire history with Aragorn, and how Elessar was Leofa's father. Eomer knew I'd never live in Minas Tirith voluntarily, at least I hadn't been apt to so far.

He put an arm around my shoulders and began leading me down the corridor from whence he'd come.

"Methinks a talk in my office is in order," he said almost gravely. I was afraid I had finally succeeded in making him angry.

"Oh no, Eomer," I replied, probably much too hastily. "There's really no need. I just wanted to resign. I'll not take up any more of your time."

As I tried to turn back toward the entrance, his arm tightened around my shoulders, and he continued to guide me down the hallway and to his office, much to my annoyance.

We went into the room and he shut the door. He sat me down in a massive chair before his even more massive desk. Of shining oak his furniture was; plain, but beautiful, oiled and buffed to perfection. He sat himself behind the desk.

He remained there staring at me for a few moments, his elbows on the desk and his fingers entwined and leaning against his lips. We neither spoke. I was growing more and more uneasy.

"Now tell me why you are going to Gondor. The true reason, Maeren." He placed his hands palms down on the desk.

"I've told you the true reason, Eomer," I lied. I felt terrible fibbing like this to Eomer. He was such a good and true friend of mine. And I was so bad at lying to people; I would be lucky if he did not see right through my story.

"Aragorn has requested that Leofa come and live with him in Gondor for the foreseeable future. I thought I could handle my son being gone. But the more I dwell on Leofa's impending absence, I find I cannot allow him to be away from me for so long a time."

Again that piercing stare. Slowly, Eomer shook his head. "I think you should try to fool someone else, Maeren," he told me quietly. "You are not telling me the truth. But it truly is no matter. Do not feel pressure to tell me anything you do not want to disclose." The look on his face was almost challenging, but at least he didn't seem angry with me.

_Wonderful_. He'd seen through my lie and was now using guilt on me. I did not have enough wits about me these days, what with lovers who thought me false and this never-ending headache, that I could think straight enough to conjure any type of lie—believable or otherwise.

I closed my eyes and sighed, then opened them again.

"All right, Eomer," I said in surrender. "I will tell you the truth. I've fallen in love with someone, and he has proved he does not love me as he claimed, nor can he be trusted with my heart. While I will miss Leofa terribly while he is away in Gondor, you are right to doubt me. I would never dream of returning there. The memories I have _here _are what I cannot live with. My Elven friend Haldan has consented to take me back to Imladris to dwell for a time."

Every word was true. Every one. While I'd left out the most important truth of all, I'd not told any lies. I prayed my eyes would not tear up as I spoke about Elladan in a way I never thought to speak of him.

I could see Eomer's sympathy for me; it was written plainly on his face.

"Do your brothers know?" he asked.

"No," I said, "and I think I will not tell them. I will see if they are as aware of me as you are. See if they will swallow the story I meant to feed you. I have a feeling they will."

"I am sorry, Maeren," he said solemnly. I could tell he could indeed feel my pain. "I will miss your presence here, but it is your broken heart that grieves me."

"Thank you, Eomer," I told him. "I hope that with time the memories will fade, and I can come back here to live. But I cannot promise such will happen."

"And you do not need to," he said. "When you return will be when it will be." He got up from his chair and I rose from mine. He hugged me close for a few moments, then held me at arm's length.

"Now, enough of this," he said. "Let's tend to some business. That always helps the heart, does it not?"

"I think it does," I said, finally smiling. "I do recommend Lisemma as my replacement. She trained with Lord Keodwen before his death and has assisted me for these last five years. She's not quite got the experience needed, but she does have the seniority among the others. She knows more than anyone else I leave behind."

"Then Lisemma it will be," he said. "Will you explain to her the circumstances, or do you want me to handle her promotion?"

"I will do it, Eomer," I said. "It will give me pleasure. She's very good at healing, and I think she will welcome the news. It would do my heart good to give good news to someone right now."

As I turned and left Eomer, I thought of all the people I had in my life that I loved, and who also loved me. Eomer was one of them. So had Elladan been.

The loss of one should not feel like the complete and utter end of my world—

—but it did.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I returned to the Houses of Healing and told Lisemma of my impending departure—to Gondor—and her coming promotion. And then I told her the position commenced as of _now_. She was flustered and unsure. She objected and protested. And I would hear none of it.

I took some time to show her all the inner workings of the Houses of Healing, of which there weren't many. There were few things to be ordered, since we mostly made or grew that which we needed. Or there were suppliers among our own people, whom she knew and from whom she could take over where I left off.

I told her she was qualified and with time she would fall into an easy routine just as I had. She looked frightened, but by the time I left her, I'd encouraged her as much as it was possible for a newly promoted person to be encouraged, and she looked much more confident.

And thus, I was now completely free to do as I wanted. And I needed to get out of Rohan as soon as Haldan could arrange it.

I was home well before noon, and I spent the rest of the day washing Leofa's clothes and then hanging them outside to dry. By mid afternoon I was taking them down from the line and bringing them inside to pack into a bag for him. I had my things out also, deciding which I would take with me to Imladris and which I would leave behind. I had no idea when I would return to Edoras, but I intended to leave everything just as it was, with instructions for my brothers to do likewise. I would eventually come back and see to everything, I just did not know when.

Late afternoon was upon me when Leofa came home. He walked in followed closely by Elladan. After my initial glance to see who was coming in my door, I looked away and resumed my folding and stowing. I tried to seem as if I were unaffected by Elladan's presence, but I'm not sure I was successful. The palms of my hands began to sweat, and I could feel my face heat and then cool. I could not tell if I was angry or terrified.

"Hello, Mother," Leofa said.

"Hello, Leofa," I returned, not looking up. "The bag you need is that one on the floor, just to the right as you came in." He looked to where I had absently pointed, then picked the bag up by the handle, opening it for his inspection.

"When will you be leaving?" I'd aimed the comment to either one of them, since I was unsure if Elladan would answer me.

Elladan looked around the room, as if he'd not heard me speak at all. The silence lengthened as Leofa waited for Elladan to reply to me, as was usually the case.

Leofa frowned at Elladan, obviously confused, and said, "We plan to leave on the morrow. I'm staying at Uncle Haedren's house tonight for sure, and so is Elladan, so we can get an early start." He sounded almost defensive, as if he expected an argument from me. At some other time, he might have been right. But now, with Elladan acting as if he did not even know me, I kept quiet.

I nodded at Leofa. "Is everything you might want to take with you in your bag? Perhaps you have things in your room you wish to have along as well?"

My son went into his room. The tension between Elladan and me was almost too terrible to bear. I wanted to scream at him again, and tell him he was behaving more childishly than Leofa ever dreamed of doing. But I could not.

I continued with my sorting and folding and packing for myself.

Leofa returned with some small items, which he stowed in the bag I'd packed for him. He finally saw what I was doing, and he stopped cold in his tracks.

"Mother," Leofa asked suspiciously, "are you going somewhere?" Then his face took on an 'oh no' sort of look. "You are _not_ coming to Gondor with us, are you?"

"No, Leofa," I said as I shook my head in the negative. I turned away so that neither of them could see the hurt in my eyes.

"Well, _that_ is a relief," he said in thankful tone.

"I am sure it must make you _quite_ happy, Leofa!" I almost shouted. My nastier side had gotten the best of me. But it hurt me, and angered me, too, when I'd realized that my son didn't care where I might be off to, as long as it was away from him.

"There's no need for dramatics," Elladan said to me quietly, with a hint of sarcasm. I was startled to hear him speak at all.

"I don't believe I was talking to you!" I answered him loudly, with spite.

He said nothing more, but Leofa took it up then.

"I knew it had to be you!" he shouted. "Elladan's been a bear since yesterday, and I knew you must have done something. What did you do, Mother?"

I closed my eyes, grimacing as Leofa's noisy yelling pounded inside my quaking head. I did not know how to answer my son, or if I should even try.

"I've done nothing," I finally answered coolly.

"Well, I'm not believing that!" Leofa said, again at top volume.

"Leofa—" Elladan said warningly.

"Well I would know what she's done to make you so angry!"

"It has nothing to do with you, Leofa," Elladan said, with much more patience than I might have expected. "It is between the two of us, and if and when we feel like explaining it to you, we will."

"She ruins everything," he said petulantly.

"Leofa!" Elladan said with a little more force. It sounded as if he was actually coming to my defense, but what he said next, and how he said it, disavowed me of that notion quickly.

"Tell your mother goodbye. She knows she will not be seeing you for a _very_ long time."

Apparently Elladan did not want me to think all was forgiven, just because he would not allow Leofa speak to me in any way he chose. He'd aimed his last statement right at me, looking directly into my eyes, so I'd not mistake it for less than it was—a veiled threat. A warning that he was taking Leofa to Aragorn, who would decide for how long my son would be living in Gondor.

Elladan knew how much I feared that Leofa staying in Minas Tirith with his father might become a permanent thing. His saying this showed that he deliberately wanted to hurt me. That fact alone nearly brought me to tears. My concept of 'a long time' and Elladan's were vastly different, and he meant for me to take that into consideration as well. I'd not thought Elladan capable of being so cruel.

I resumed my folding, not looking at him. I'd not rise to his baiting. I could have Leofa back whenever I wished it. All I'd need do would be to go to Gondor and tell Aragorn such. I knew he would not keep my son from me if I insisted he not. He'd promised me that, long ago.

Leofa came to me then and put his arms around me, hugging me close, apparently having a change of heart. I'd known he truly loved me, although it was hard to see it sometimes.

"I'm sorry for yelling, Mother," he said quietly. He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and then let me hold him away from me for a moment.

He was a young man, just as Elladan had told me the other morning as we sat and talked about Aragorn's plans for my son. _My but that seemed so long ago. _

I could look Leofa square in the eyes, without bending or stooping as I once had to do. His jaw line had a masculine hardness to it now, not the soft, baby roundness of before. His neck was thickening and his voice box was enlarging. Soon he would speak in a man's voice, too.

My voice was shaky when I could finally talk, but I did not weep. "I am sorry, too, Leofa. I hope you have a good trip. I will miss you, son. Write to me, will you?"

He smiled at me then, and I could see my father in him. Leofa reminded me so much of Aragorn most of the time, but for now, my father's influence in his breeding showed clearly. I smiled back at him.

Elladan looked at me for a moment. I wasn't sure what I saw in his gaze. Sadness, anger, hate. I could not tell.

And with that, my son left me. And so did my lover. I knew not when I might see either of them again, or if they'd care if I ever did.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	6. Breaks and Departures

_Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien._

I spent another hour going through my things. I knew I'd not need much**—**I'd be too large for my clothes before too long a time. I wondered if the dresses I'd worn in Imladris, when I waited for Leofa to be born, would still be there somewhere. I would look for them as soon as I arrived. If need be, the seamstress in residence could make me a few dresses that would see me through the time I would need them. I imagined there'd still be someone in Rivendell who could ply a needle. Elves were rugged and ruined their things just as men did. Gowns could be made for me. And who knows? I might even help with the chore.

I wondered where Haldan had got to. He'd not been at the Houses of Healing this morning, as he usually is when he's in Edoras, and he'd not come to my house at all today. It mattered not. I suppose I was just lonely and, being here alone, I was brooding over things I'd rather not think about.

As soon as I had all my stacks of things put away, or stored in my valise for travel, I sat down in my rocking chair. It felt good to be off my feet. They were swollen this evening, which wasn't a common thing for me at all. At least, not this early when I'd been with child before.

I was almost asleep when the door opened and Haldan walked in. He had something in his hands that smelled delightful. _I'd forgotten to eat today… _

Haldan placed the parcel, wrapped in grease-stained, brown paper, on the table and peeled the first layer of paper away from what could only be four delicious-smelling meat pies. My mouth began to water, and I got up from the chair, wanting to be quick in claiming one of the small, savory tarts.

But when I stood, I nearly fell to my knees with dizziness. Faintness overtook me, and I could barely hear Haldan calling my name. I certainly could not answer him. My tongue wouldn't work.

The next thing I knew I was on my bed, and Haldan was seated beside me, his hands on my head. It felt so good—the relentless aching was ebbing away with his touch.

"Are you with me again?" Haldan asked.

"I think so," I answered shakily. He went to take his hands away, but I grabbed one of his wrists and begged him not to.

"Just a minute more, Haldan?" I pleaded.

He chuckled at me. "My magic touch," he claimed.

"It is indeed magic," I assured him. "My head has been hurting for at least two days and nothing much touches the pain. Well, nothing but your magical hands, that is."

Haldan looked at me in a considering sort of way, as if he were running through a mental checklist as he took in my appearance.

"Let me examine you again, Maeren," he said suddenly, as he got up from the bed.

"Wait, Haldan." I was again pleading with him, but this time it was not his hands I was missing, it was the meat pies. I'd recovered from my near faint, and I could smell them again. _Eru, I could almost taste them, I was so hungry! _

"There is nothing wrong with me that a good meal will not cure," I assured him. "I've not really eaten today, and I know that is all that is the matter."

He scowled at me in a most 'un-Elfly' way.

"You've not eaten today?" he almost yelled at me. He rolled his eyes, something I'd never seen him do in the past. He shook his head quickly, as if he did not believe how dense one mortal woman could be, and left the room, coming back momentarily with all four of the meat pies.

I'm sure my eyes must have lit. I could not contain my wanting of one of the luscious smelling tarts, and to my shame, I almost grabbed one from Haldan's hand. But he pulled his laden hands away from me, smiling all the while, as he prolonged my longing for sustenance. He placed the pies on the table beside the bed that held my lamp. He took one of the pies, which I am sure I was eyeing like a wolf might stare at a lamb, and, smiling wickedly by now, he commenced to slowly peel the paper completely away from the tart, which he then handed to me.

We both ate in silence for a few moments; well, silence except for my moaning with pleasure over the delicious meal I was having. I thanked him sincerely between bites, when my mouth was not so full as to make my words unintelligible.

After I'd finished my first pie, I looked at Haldan expectantly. I didn't want to just grab another of his pies. I had only assumed he'd meant to share them with me at all. He could have bought them for his own evening meal, with no thought to mine at all.

He shook his head, pretending to be put out with me, but he did not wait to finish his own before handing me another. He'd not taken the paper off this one, but it took me not long. I was finished with my second pie before he'd finished swallowing the last of his first!

He handed me a third pie, but I did not take it. I truly was completely satisfied now. Besides, Haldan knew I had a hearty appetite, but I hoped he also knew that even I could not eat three meat pies at a sitting.

Haldan retrieved a towel from my washstand and wiped his fingers on it. He offered it to me, and I did the same.

"Now the examination?" he asked hopefully.

I let my head fall back on the pillow I'd propped myself up on before I ate. "Must you?" I asked in a whining voice. "I am fine, Haldan. The headache is bound to be stress—compounded today by hunger. It is almost completely gone, since your magical fingers nearly took it completely away."

He scowled, clearly thinking it over. "It isn't just that," he finally said. "I did not take the proper time with the examination the other night, what with the surprise of it all and who you said the baby's father was and the upset _that_ gave the both of us. I would know the baby's exact size and heart rate. While I listened for a heartbeat, I did not take its rate."

"I never knew a baby's heart rate in my life as a healer, Haldan," I said decidedly. "Never. Not once. I could tell if it was too fast or too slow for its stage, but to count it out? No! And almost always there was a healthy baby and mother at the end."

"Why are you being difficult, Maeren?" he asked, clearly becoming annoyed with me. "Is there something you do not _want _me to know?"

"What would that be, Haldan, _if _you truly believe who I claim is the father?"

"I might want to know the general time of conception, although why you would want to keep that from me, I have no idea. I am betting on Yule, or a week or two after, but perhaps it was even earlier? I do not keep track of Elrond's sons quite as closely as you might expect. _Could_ you be six months along, do you think?"

"Now you are being silly. I would be poking out to here by now, if that were true," I said almost irately, placing my hands out in front of me to show just how far my abdomen would be extended.

"You do not know that," he said, and he was irate now, though he kept it hidden pretty well. "_If_ you are having an Elven baby, you have no notion as to its rate of growth in the womb. _I_, however, do."

He'd deliberately said '_if_' again. _If _Elladan was the father, he meant. It must be me making the Elves around me so angry that they all felt the need to hurt me, since this was the second time in one day that one had.

After an extended silence, I finally said, "I think you should go now. You can examine me at another time. _If _I am having an Elven baby, it will still be in my womb tomorrow." I knew I was being petulant, but I could not help it. He'd hurt my feelings, deliberately or not. And words could hurt just as a blow might. Sometimes they hurt more.

But Haldan did not leave. Instead he sat down beside me on the bed and took one of my hands in his. I so very much wanted to snatch it back, but Haldan had been too good a friend for me to ever do that.

"I am sorry, Maeren," he said, "I did not mean that in the way you took it. I just meant it as an explanation, that's all." He watched my face to see if I would forgive him, but I'd not decided to. "I cannot leave yet at any rate. There's something else I need to tell you."

The look on his face became slightly apprehensive. "I should have asked you first, before I did this, but the opportunity arose and I seized it."

I raised an eyebrow, wondering just what exactly he'd done that he thought I might not approve of.

"I had to speak to Elladan before he left to take Leofa to Gondor, and since he was with Leofa the entire day, I had no choice but to finally go to Haedren's, as that is where I knew Leofa to be. I spoke to them just before coming here to _feed_ you." He stopped for a moment to smile widely at me—a dig I am sure about my hearty appetite—but I was so curious as to what he'd said to them, that I know not if I returned his smile at all.

When it was obvious that I was not going to respond to his needling, Haldan cleared his throat and continued, "I told them—Elladan, Leofa and your brother Haedren—that you were already grieving over Leofa's departure so seriously, that I was taking you to Imladris as soon as I might. I know Elladan knew the truth as to the real nature of our visit to Rivendell, but neither Leofa nor Haedren did. I hope you do not think me overbearing or underhanded by saying such a thing to them, when I'd not asked you if you even wanted me saying anything at all."

I did smile at Haldan then, completely relieved. Knowing Haldan as I do, I would not have been surprised by anything he might tell the three he'd been speaking to, but he'd taken one of the most odious chores I would face in leaving Rohan out of my hands completely. I had dreaded telling any of my brothers of my departure, Haedren most especially. Being the oldest, Haedren always looked after me, so he was the closest to me, and I knew I'd not be able to tell him such a story as Haldan told him, without blurting the entire reason for my stay in Imladris.

I leaned forward and hugged Haldan. I could not help it. As I sat back, I pasted what must've been a very contrite expression onto my face. "Thank you, Haldan. I truly do not know why I am being so ornery this evening, but I am sorry for being unkind before. And here you have helped me again. You knew I'd not be able to face any of my brothers with untruths. I am just so tired that I cannot face an examination tonight, and now you suspect I could be even farther along with the baby than either of us thought before—"

I paused and took a deep breath prior to continuing. "Yes, it is possible. Elladan and I were together when he came to Rohan the month before Yule to take Leofa back to Gondor. My courses were spotty before I completely missed the one four months ago and then all the others since."

"Very well, then," Haldan said, his beautiful face no longer marred by anger or frustration. "Tomorrow. But the examination must be done. If you are six months along, I would think the baby would be slightly larger, but the examination should tell all. We should know tomorrow for sure."

Haldan got up from the bed and fetched his last meat pie off the table beside it.

"Don't get up to see me off," he said, "you need to stay off those swollen feet, Miss. I'd not noticed those ankles before, but I certainly see them now. You are most assuredly farther along than I first thought."

He bent to kiss me on the cheek. "Good night, now. I will see you bright and early in the morning for the 'laying on of hands' I must do. Sleep well. And keep off those feet the rest of the night!"

And with that he left.

The house seemed so quiet, but I was accustomed to that. Leofa always being at Haedren's had allowed me to grow used to solitary living, although I liked it not.

_Five or six months along? _I shook my head at the absurdity of it all. I'd not even been aware of the child, and all this time it had been growing within me. I would have thought, if I were further than four months into this, that I'd have felt motion before now, but I didn't worry since Haldan assured me he'd heard its heartbeat when he'd examined me before. I decided to lie very still and concentrate; see if I could feel anything now.

I lay flat and still, hardly even breathing for several minutes. I did finally feel some vague movement, but had I not known a child was in my womb, I probably would have mistaken it for indigestion.

Elladan's child. Again I shook my head. I did not know whether to weep or rail against the unfairness of it all. I was torn.

I did not want or need a baby at my age. But who can resist the gift of life? My heart felt broken. Completely and utterly. But on another hand, I was furious at Elladan for not believing me. This war of emotion was apt to make a crazy woman out of me.

I stayed still a few moments longer, feeling the languid movements of my child within me. I then sighed and got up and got myself ready for bed.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Despite my better judgment, I could not keep myself from seeing Leofa off the next morning. I rose well before sunrise and was at Haedren's house just shortly after that.

I did not go into the house; I sat on a small, wooden bench beside the barn. I was there in plenty of time, since the sun was not yet showing itself in the east. The moon was three-quarters full and the millions of tiny stars in the sky seemed to keep me company.

By and by, as the stars winked out and the sky grew faintly lighter, Elrohir and Haldan joined me. Haldan sat beside me, and Elrohir perched himself on one of the rails of the corral by the barn. We didn't speak. I need to wake up before enjoying any type of conversation in the morning, and I'd come out here before I'd even had my tea.

The sun was just a hint of pink on the horizon when Elladan came outside, and then went into the barn, I supposed to get the horses ready. Leofa soon joined him. Neither said a word to any of us, but I was expecting that. Leofa because he is like I am—needing time awake to make coherent conversation a possibility. And Elladan because he was still in a snit.

I was still in a snit as well, and I had no plans to speak to Elladan again until he apologized for all the terrible things he'd said to me, but most of all for not believing me about the most basic of things—a baby of ours. I suppose I should say _if _he apologized to me. I did not know if he ever planned to or not. And I had not forgiven him for his words of yesterday—threatening me with keeping my son away from me. _My but the list of the ways he'd wronged me was growing. If only I'd known it would grow longer still._

Both Leofa and Elladan emerged from the barn leading the horses. And Leofa was leading my horse Dori. She'd been saddled and bridled, without a care as to whether I would be riding her to Imladris or not. They knew about my impending trip, because Haldan had told them about it. And they'd seen me packing yesterday afternoon. Never mind that Leofa usually rode her on these trips to Gondor; I was feeling put upon and mistreated by not only Elladan, but Leofa as well. His errant attitude was the only reason I'd consented to his going to Gondor at all, and I'd not lend him my wonderful horse to make this trip; not when I needed her myself.

I walked over to Leofa and took hold of Dori's reins. I was at ease as I did so; I held my frustration at bay. I could act childish with the best of them, but I refused to reduce myself to Elladan's level this morning.

"I am sorry, son," I said calmly, "but I will be needing Dori myself in a few days. I'm sure Haedren has a horse you could borrow."

"But Mother," he said sleepily, "I always ride Dori."

"Not this time, son," I again said in the nicest of tones. "I know not when you will return, for one thing, and for another, Haldan told you yesterday he is taking me to Rivendell. I will be leaving soon myself."

Leofa started to turn Dori and take her back into the barn, but then Elladan placed his hand on the reins.

"We've already got her ready to go," he told me. "Can _you_ not just ride one of your brother's horses?"

I lowered my voice and spoke into Elladan's ear so that he alone could hear me. Leofa was on the other side of Dori, and three-fourths asleep on his feet, so I had no need to worry he would overhear.

"I suppose I could do that, but I'm not going to. Dori's been to Imladris before on just such a mission, and I trust her implicitly with my life and the life within me."

As I drew away from Elladan, I could see his eyes flinch ever so slightly as I reminded him of the reason I was headed to Imladris at all. And then he did it—made me so angry I quite possibly may not ever consent to see him again, much less speak to him.

He leaned in close to my ear then and said, "Keep your horse. I will share with Estel the news of your treachery, have no fear. See how soon you have Leofa back then."

My first instinct was to dissolve into tears. The hurt of his words pierced beyond my heart, into my very soul. That Elladan, who had professed his love to me so many times, could all but plunge a knife into my heart with cruel words, hurt like nothing else had in my life since my husband and son's deaths. But in a matter of seconds I felt myself harden inside, as if something had changed, reinforcing my heart—almost repairing the break that had been there before.

"Keep your threats to yourself," I told him then, plainly for anyone to hear. I took Dori's reins and handed them back to Leofa. "Please take the tack off her, son, and I will go fetch Haedren, so that he might find another horse you may ride."

And that is exactly what I did. Not even the threat of tears came over me. At first I thought my heart had repaired itself somehow, because that is what it felt like, but I realized as I walked to the house, that the pieces of my heart had been holding together by the very thinnest of threads, and Elladan's words had snapped those bonds.

He no longer had any hold on my heart at all, because my heart was completely broken now.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

They were off a short time later, Leofa safely on one of Haedren's best horses, Haedren had assured me. As upset as I was at Elladan, I did not worry about Leofa's safety with Elladan riding beside him. The world was now a great deal safer, although peril could find one on a journey in the wild, but at least one did not worry so much about any of the Dark Lord's wicked underlings, be they Wargs, Orcs or Trolls. And Elladan loved my son—I have never doubted that. He would watch over him because Leofa was one of his own, so to speak. Even though Elladan was enraged with me, he would take care of Leofa, I had no doubt.

I said a short but sincere prayer to the Valar that They watch over my son, and guide him toward the answers that would best suit his young life. I wanted to weep as I watched Leofa ride away from me. As with every time he left me behind, I wanted to run after him and tell him to stay with me. But I never did. Aragorn deserved his time with him, meager though it was. I was selfish in wanting my son with me at all times. Even with his nasty behavior to me of late, Leofa was my son, and I was his mother. That was all I could say.

I went home, taking Elrohir and Haldan with me. I wanted to speak with Elrohir about our coming journey. As soon as we were safely inside, and I had gotten the water over the fire in the hearth to heat for tea, I tried again to get Elrohir to ride and catch up with his brother and Leofa, but to no avail. He was determined to ride with Haldan and me, even after I bluntly told him that I'd not have any nasty remarks from him concerning my condition _or_ my character.

He assured me that he'd keep any such comments to himself. Smiling—genuinely, I felt—Elrohir told me that at the very least he would speak Elvish to Haldan if he decided to vent his mind about any wayward thoughts he had concerning me. It was a relief that Elrohir seemed to feel the same way he'd always felt as far as I was concerned. I hoped we could remain friends, but his loyalty to his twin was a deep and cherished thing to him.

"Elrohir," I suddenly said, because I'd only just now had this horrible thought. "What if your separation from Elladan begins to take a toll on you? I'll not live through a repeat of what happened before."

"It will not happen again," he said confidently. "This is certainly not a permanent parting between Elladan and me, like we thought that it was the time before. And we have since reinforced our bond—it will hold over great distances—even should one of us choose to sail and the other not."

He sounded so confident, I felt reassured. I certainly hoped he was right.

We all decided that tomorrow would be a good day to start our own journey. Elladan and Leofa had headed southeast, while we would go northwest, to the Gap of Rohan. Elrohir then left to finish our preparations, and Haldan stayed with me.

Of course Haldan immediately wanted me to disrobe and let him have his "laying on of hands" examination of me. I had no reason to delay, except for my dread that he would tell me I was more than the four months along he thought at first. I should not fear that the baby would come sooner than was expected. The first months—however long I had been with child—had been easy for the most part. I should be very glad if I only had six or seven more months of this, instead of the eight I thought I still had to endure.

But even though I felt Elladan had cut himself out of my heart, I would have to deal with him sooner or later, because no matter what he believed, he was the father of this child. Even he would become suspicious of that fact when it was born after a twelve month term instead of the normal nine months for Human babies. And when it arrived with Elven features, ones very like his own, he would have no doubt. He would no longer be able to deny his child. But I dreaded any sort of doings with him at this point. I would be in the same predicament with Elladan as I have been in with Aragorn. _How lovely_.

As I got ready for Haldan's examination, I thought about the baby for the first time. I mean, I really thought about it. Would it be female or male? I would have said girl or boy, but Elves—at least the Elves I knew—did not want to be called by Human sorts of labels, such as being called a Man. At least Elladan protested when I slipped and called him such. I would have to learn the term for female or male Elf. I did not know it yet, but I would soon.

An Elven baby. The concept finally sunk in for me, and as it did, my heart leapt into my throat. Elves did not reach majority until fifty. I would by _ninety-two_ when my child was considered adult. And I might be long gone way before then; I might not even see my baby grow into adulthood at all.

I wished I'd not thought about it in this way. These things were completely distressing.

I peeled my dress off and left on my shift, and, after taking my shoes off as well, I climbed into my bed and arranged my clothing and the covers so that my abdomen was exposed. I called out to Haldan, who came into my bedroom and closed the door. As before, he took the chair out of the corner and then sat in it beside the bed.

He placed his hands right over my womb and held them there for quite a long while. He then stood, and began kneading around on my abdomen, I was sure checking the size and position of the baby. He did this for several minutes, so long that I was beginning to be concerned.

"Is something wrong, Haldan?" I asked him.

He glanced at me and smiled. "Not in the least. I am just taking careful measure, is all."

He pushed the chair out of his way and knelt, as he had the other night. He placed his ear on me, his face toward me, his eyes closed. I watched his innocent expression, truly angelic while his eyes were shut. The emotions playing there were fascinating. His initial response was a very small smile, when he could hear the heartbeat plainly. His expression changed to one of total concentration, but as he continued to listen, his smile grew wide, and he finally opened his eyes and lifted his head.

I adjusted my shift and the bedclothes, and then I propped myself up against the headboard on my pillow.

"What do you say, Haldan?" I asked him quietly.

"I say you have a strong baby inside you, with a strong heart—that beats a steady 140 beats per minute, give or take a beat or so. I have no timepiece with which to truly gauge it, but when I compared it to my own, that is the figure I came up with. And you are most assuredly more than four months along. Closer to six, in my opinion."

I was thoughtful for a few moments, remembering what I had been thinking about previously. _An Elven baby. I probably wouldn't even see it grown up good before I was leaving this world._

"Haldan," I asked, "what are the Elvish words for the different genders?"

He smiled at me again, that beautiful smile I loved so much.

"Elleth," he said, "is the Elf of the female persuasion. Ellon is the male counterpart."

"Elleth," I repeated. "That's a pretty word. I hope this baby is an Elleth. I've never had a girl child before."

"And if she's half as beautiful as you are, she'll be very pretty indeed."

I laughed, as I'm sure Haldan knew I would, although he did frown at me. I was as plain as a woman on Middle-earth could get! Ordinary. Unremarkable. Certainly not beautiful.

"I must take exception on behalf of any daughter I might have," I said, still smiling. She'd better be a great deal prettier than that!"

"I am thinking of her physical attraction, to be sure," Haldan said haughtily. "But surely even you have heard the old saying 'pretty is as pretty does'? I say you lead a very pretty life."

All I could do was shake my head. He called this life of mine pretty? I'd call it pretty dismal, if it were I putting a label on it.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

**A/N: First of all, thanks to those of you who have taken the time to review this story. I could not go on without you. Second, I have to say that Elladan will not be this huge 'meanie' for long. He's just very angry and has to get all his 'mad' out of his system. All will be well in the end…. I hope…**


	7. Dreams and Determinations

_Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien._

Later that day, after Haldan had gone, I went to Haedren's house. I wanted to tell my brother and his wife goodbye. I knew it was ill advised; I was well known for blurting out complete truth when confronted with a few honest questions, so I was taking a risk seeing either of them. I decided to take my chances. I could not leave Rohan without first seeing my big brother and my sister-in-law.

When I came back to Rohan with Leofa all those years ago, my brothers and Eomer had stepped in, paving my way with a story of a made-up husband for me. I would not ask them to do that again, if they would even consider it. I had no illusions that if my family knew about the baby I now carried, they would think the worst of me this time.

I thought—when I had Leofa—that the sting my family might have felt when I returned with a child and no husband might have been tempered by the fact that I'd had a liaison with the _King_ of Gondor and not just some ordinary man. I had no notion what they would think if they found out that not only had I again been intimate with someone without the benefit of vows, I'd been intimate with an Elf. Twice when I'd taken up with someone, it had not been with a true man of Rohan.

I gave a solid knock on the door as I entered. Haedren's wife Tema was inside kneading bread dough. After she'd wiped her hands on her apron, she greeted me warmly and hugged me. As she stood back to look at me, I could see her smile fall into a slight grimace. I must have seemed sad because she hugged me again.

"Is Haedren here?" I asked her.

"In the barn," Tema replied. "A cup of tea?"

It was Tema's way to speak in unfinished sentences. I loved her for it—it was genuine and it was Tema.

"I would love one, Tema," I replied. "But let me go speak to Haedren first, and then I'll return and we can gossip some!"

She smiled. "It'll be waiting."

The tea would be waiting, I knew. I went back out the door and made my way to the barn. I stepped inside, my eyes needing to adjust to the dimness within. Haedren was checking Dori's feet. I smiled at his care of me.

He looked up as I approached and stood from his crouch.

"Already missing Leo so much that you need company?" he asked.

"I'm accustomed to being alone, Haedren," I said. "Leofa was always here, so I'm no stranger to being on my own."

He looked disconcerted as he said, "I am sorry about that, Maeren. The boy sticks to me like glue, and I would have it no other way. He's like one of my own. But I should have thought of you and sent him home more often."

"You thought of me enough," I assured him. "He and I only fought when he did come home, so we were both better off when he was here."

"Why do you suppose that was?" Haedren asked me, as he stroked Dori's glossy, black coat with his broad hand.

Instead of answering him, I asked him a question in return. "Did Leofa ever ask you about the circumstances surrounding his birth, Haedren?"

His eyebrows shot up at the unexpectedness of the question, then he squatted again and looked back to Dori's feet. I thought he was not going to answer me, but then he did.

"Yes," he finally said. "He asked me on more than one occasion, and I always told him to go ask you. Did he not ever do it?"

"No, he did not. And I believe that might have been the reason for the strife between us. I think he assumed the answer to that question and found me completely lacking. I find it unfair that he did not, however, find Aragorn in any way deficient."

"I am afraid that is the way of things, sister," he said. "Mayhap it shouldn't be, but it is."

"I know you're right, but it still hurts."

Haedren got up again.

"Did you have something you needed to tell me, Maeren?" he asked me.

The intensity of his gaze unsettled me. It was almost as if he knew something I didn't want him to know and was just waiting for me to explain it to him. But that could not be. All my secrets were safely tucked away as they always were.

"I just wanted to tell you goodbye. And mention that you all should just leave my house as it is. No need to clean it out or board it up or anything. I will return, I just know not when."

He frowned at me then. "You sound as if you will not be coming back in the foreseeable future. You are planning on coming back, are you not?"

"Eventually," I said, looking away. "I know not how long Leofa will be in Gondor. It could be years."

"I hadn't thought you'd planned an extended visit to the Elven land," he said. "The way Haldan spoke, it was just to relieve your immediate sadness over Leofa being gone."

"That's true," I said, realizing we were starting to tread on shaky ground now.

Haedren walked toward me slowly. I saw the look on his face—it would be trouble for me. He was about to ask me questions I did not want to answer, and even if I did not blurt out the entire story, I would start weeping, and that would tell him more than I wanted him to know.

Haedren narrowed his eyes at me. "This has to do with the Elf Elladan, does it not?"

I was stunned at my brother's question. So I asked him a question in answer, since I knew not what to say to him.

"What makes you think that?" I tried to sound flippant, as if we were speaking of nothing of import.

He cocked his head to one side, as he always had done when he disbelieved me or knew I was skirting issues. I had to say something else.

"I do not know what you are talking about, Haedren," I declared.

"Well then let me tell you a story," he said.

I knew I was in trouble now. He had some sort of proof about Elladan and me. This was always how he caught me when we were children. The old 'let me tell you a story' comment.

"Earlier in the week, two or three days ago, I had that stomach sickness that everyone else had. It was just past midnight, and I was outside heaving my guts up, when what do I see across the way, but someone sneaking around your house. So I went inside and fetched my sword and went investigating.

"I didn't know it was an Elf at first, but he started walking toward me, when I'd been as quiet and stealthy as I knew how, and that made me suspicious that it must have been one. And when he got close enough, he called out to me—called me by name. We were too far apart for him to see my face in the dark, were he a man. By then I knew it must be Elladan or Elrohir.

"As soon as he'd joined me, I asked him what he was doing, and he told me he was just coming to see you. Now I wanted to take him out for saying such a thing right then, it being the middle of the night, what with you likely being abed and all, but I've heard what doughty fighters Elves can be, and I was obviously not at my best fighting strength. So I kept at him with questions, and he finally told me something I could not believe. Something I had not believed until I heard you were headed for Imladris for no good reason. And now I would hear it from you, sister. Are you keeping company with that Elf like he said? And what's the real reason for you going to that Elven land?"

I thought I would faint again. My secret was no longer a secret, and Elladan had told Haedren about us _before_ I had told Elladan about the baby. I could tell Haedren was holding his temper. He was not usually one quick to anger, but when his ire was stirred it could be a fearful thing. My mind raced, trying to think of some way to cover this, but I could not think of anything. I was going to have to come clean, at least to Haedren.

My voice was shaky when I finally started speaking. I told Haedren that what Elladan had told him was true. We'd been keeping company for years, whenever Elladan was in Rohan, either fetching Leofa to Aragorn or bringing him back to me. I told my brother that I had never thought to love again after Dustin, but that I had fallen in love with Elladan. That I had loved him with all my heart. I also told Haedren that Elladan and I had had a parting of the ways. I did not think we'd be keeping company any longer.

I found that once I started talking, I could not stop. The relief this confession gave me was profound. I thought about leaving my story as I had concluded it, with Elladan and I going separate ways. But I knew Haedren would ask again about my trip to Imladris, since he'd pointedly inquired about my true reason for going there just minutes ago. And there was truly only one reason I was going there at all—the baby I was carrying.

"Haedren," I said haltingly. I truly did not want to say this to him. I did not want to see the accusation in his eyes, the condemnation when my brother _wrongly_ determined that I had not learned anything from Leofa's birth. But I braced myself and said plainly, "I am with child. Elladan's child."

His face grew pale, and I wondered if I would have to pick him up from the ground when he fell in a dead faint. But he stayed on his feet.

He continued to stare at me, almost as if he did not understand what I'd told him. But as I stood there watching him watch me, I knew he would not let me leave this surprise announcement without clarification. I did not want to get into the details about Elven conception dates, and how I shouldn't be in this condition at all, but what else would I say? Even if I did try to explain, it was such a long and detailed story, I did not know exactly where to start. But I found a way.

"Elves celebrate conception dates instead of birthdays, brother. Elven parents choose when to have a child; it never just happens by accident. Elladan told me I'd not conceive by him, not unless or until the two of us decided to have a child together."

Had the situation been different, I might have laughed at the awkward expression on my brother's face. We were clearly talking about something he felt very ill at ease discussing discussing with me. But if he wanted to know how it all came to be, this was my explanation of it.

"It took quite a bit of convincing on his part," I continued, "but Elladan finally did persuade me. So we never worried about getting me with child. Yet it did happen. Being an Elven healer, Haldan knew simply by touching me that I was with child. But I needed further proof, so examined me. It is true.

"Elladan does not believe that the baby is his. By anything he's ever known, this cannot be possible. And I was exceedingly angry thinking he'd deceived me, just to have his way. So we had a terrible fight, and I do not expect to see him again. But that still leaves me with child—an Elven child. And even though you have no reason to believe me either, I am telling you truly, Haedren—I swear to you, I have lain with no one else."

Haedren took a deep breath. I could not judge if he was about to shout at me and tell me what a waste of womanhood I was, or just what he might say. But again, I'd done this crime, and I would face the consequences, whatever they may be.

"Sister," he almost whispered. He cleared his throat and started again. "Why did you not just marry that Elf? Elladan told me he's asked you to several times. Why all the sneaking around and lying to people? Why lie to me?"

"I am sorry, Haedren," I said, "but I did not think you'd understand."

"Well, you would be right about that! I do not understand!" He ran his hand through his graying hair, showing his frustration with me.

"It's very complicated, the reason I did not marry Elladan. I cannot tell you all about it now, because it is such a long, complex story, but just understand that had I married him, it would have shortened his life. He's an immortal, Haedren. I will not be accountable for his death, when he should live forever."

Haedren hugged me to him. I was weeping by now, and my brother just held me while I cried.

"I have never told you this," Haedren said, "but right after the fire—you know—"

Haedren did not need to finish his sentence. I knew of which fire he could not speak—the one that killed my husband and son. It was the only fire he could never bring himself to talk about, and I wondered at his mentioning it now.

I stepped back from Haedren and nodded, to let him know I did indeed understand his meaning.

"You were very despondent and rightly so. I was afraid you might do yourself harm, your mind was so fragile. Tema and I took turns watching over you. You might have been sick to death of our company, but you never let on, if you were. You'd sit hour after hour in that old rocking chair our father made, not saying a word, just staring off into space. Sometimes you'd weep, but mostly you just sat."

I gave Haedren a smile and a small nod. "I do remember it Haedren, and bless you both for attending to me. I could not say so at the time, but I appreciated your presence. The last thing I wanted to was to be alone."

"I did not know how you made it through such despair," he continued. "I could not live did anything happen to my Tema or any of my children."

Haedren paced a short distance away, but turned around and walked back toward me.

"I suppose what I am trying to say, in as delicate a way as a rough man such as myself could ever speak, is that I cannot condemn you for seeking love. Especially when the love that you had was taken from you in a most gruesome way. I cannot imagine life without my wife, and you have had to bear the loss of not only a husband, but also a son. That would have broken a lesser person. I believe it would have broken me."

Haedren slowly finished closing the distance between us and said, "You do not have to leave, Maeren. I will go fetch that blasted Elf back here and _make_ him marry you now!"

Haedren's eyes were not exactly dry when I looked up into his sad face. I touched his jaw, his strong jaw so like my father's.

"I do not want to marry him now—even with this complication—any more than I did before. As I said, I'll not be to blame for an immortal becoming mortal. And for another thing, I am not sure I would have him now, since he does not trust me when I give him my solemn word about something as important as a child of his. Besides, he is so angry with me for what he thinks is my betrayal of him, you would have to kill him to bring him back here, and we both know that _he_ would not be killed—_you_ would. And I would not lose you to some argument that was not truly yours, nor would I have your death on my conscience."

"It will be as you wish, sister," he said. "But if you change your mind, I will be ready with my horse and my sword."

I smiled at my brother. I've always been able to count on Haedren. Even if he truly did not understand why I did the things I did, he would still die for me. He'd always been a very loyal man, to all his family. And even though he was a horseman, he was also a warrior, and when he said he would fight to the death, he would.

"Let us go have a bit of tea with Tema," I said, trying to break the somber mood. I hooked my arm in his, and we left the barn, walking toward the house.

"Only if you will tell her what you have just told me," Haedren said. "Her wisdom is something I never take lightly. Perhaps she will have answers that the two of us have not thought of. She's very good at working out problems."

I was finished with falseness, especially with my family, so I agreed that we should go consult with Tema. Who knew? Perhaps she could shed light where only darkness fell at present. Perhaps not, but I would be with my family, whom I loved and who loved me. And, unless Tema came up with some wonderful plan I'd not thought of yet, I would be gone from them for a very long time.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Haedren and Tema and I talked for more than three hours, and while both of them had sympathy for me, they had no alternatives to the plans that I'd already made. They were both outraged on my behalf—that I'd been true to Elladan, and yet he refused to believe that the child was his. I told them more about Elves and the Peredhil in general, but they stayed firmly on my side. I could have wept at their allegiance. I made them promise to not come see me off on the morrow; I had no wish to begin my journey with tears. Let me cry however much I would tonight and be done with it.

It was nearing the time for the evening meal when I finally got up from their table to make my way home. Tema pleaded with me to eat with them. She knew me too well. She knew I'd not eat a meal at home, that at the most I might have a little bread and cheese. But I would not be persuaded. I was monstrously tired. Confession might be good for the soul, but it wreaked havoc on one's physical stamina.

I went to bed early. My headache was back, but I was not surprised. All the tension of the past few days was too much to bear, and it showed in my health. I lay in my bed almost too tired to move; yet sleep evaded me for a while. When it eventually crept over me, allowing my eyes to finally stay closed, it was not to peaceful slumber I was treated, but to harrowing dreams that had me waking every few hours.

Just before dawn I dreamed of Elladan. The dream was of before this disaster had hit my life—there was no baby, and I was held firmly in his arms, with him breathing endearments into my ear as he made love to me. I was relieved beyond all belief. I'd not lost my life again. I'd not lost my love. He was right here with me and would be forever.

I awoke gradually and was shocked to find myself alone in my bed. I held my tears at bay, refusing to give in to them. I was alone now, but it was not of my doing. It was Elladan's doing. Completely. The carelessly cruel words he'd spoken to me before he'd gone with Leofa had shattered what was left of my heart. It would not be repaired. I would not love again. I thought I had learned my lesson when Dustin was taken from me, but apparently I was greedy for punishment, to have allowed myself to fall in love with Elladan at all. I would not be so careless in the future. No one would breach my defenses again.

I was alone now and that is how I would stay. At least until I had this baby I carried.

But I did not want it! I had wished the baby away in my dreams last night, and I would gladly be rid of it now if there were an easy way to accomplish the deed. But even had I seriously considered doing harm to it now, I could not. Not with my being almost six months along. It would be too much like murdering a newborn at this point. At least I assumed that it would. I could not ask Haldan. He would not understand my change of heart. And he would never forgive me if I did such a thing, any more than I would be able to forgive myself.

But as I lay there in the wee, cold hours of the morning, before the sun rose to chase the darkness away, I knew my heart was not as hard as I thought it was. This was a baby inside me. A sweet, innocent life. Once I could see it growing and feel its movements, I would be lost to its charm.

I smiled in spite of my mood, and then let the tears come flooding out of my heart.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

We left the next morning, and I was eager to go. Even though I'd not slept well, I used my tiredness to urge me ever onward. Sometimes the more exhausted we are, the more we accomplish, just from sheer will to get the job done.

No one saw us off, of which I was glad. I had no desire to weep, and I would have, had I seen Haedren and Tema. We'd had such a good talk yesterday. We'd said things to each other that we'd not said before. That is how I wanted to remember our connection, until I could come back here at some later date and renew it again.

I was still of a mind that my heart had hardened, even though I'd relented about this child in my womb. But I had not changed my mind about loving another Man—or Elf. I never would allow myself to do that again.

I hoped that with time, I would begin to look forward to the baby's birth. But for now, just knowing I did not wish it ill was enough for me. Perhaps my mother sense would emerge given enough time.

We rode hard; we had a long way to travel. How well I remembered the trip before Leofa was born. Endless hours in a saddle or lying upon the hard ground attempting to sleep. Of Legolas being eternally mean for most of the time. Of Gimli being a rock upon which I could lean. Of Elladan and Elrohir playing their constant jests—of Elladan and me on a riverbank one night…

We rode from dawn to dusk every day, but late on the third afternoon, Haldan called a halt.

"Elrohir," he said. "I know I told you that speed was essential, but this pace you are setting is murderous. Even I am finding it a trial to keep up. Imagine what Maeren is feeling."

"Leave me out of this argument," I said. Even though I was tired, I could still go on. "I am not complaining, Elrohir."

"Haldan, our pace was much slower than this the time we brought her to Imladris before, and she fared much less well."

"I was retching so much my strength was bad," I admitted. "I am more hale this time." Which may or may not be true. My headache, which I would have thought would be gone by now, was always with me, however vaguely. Even I was beginning to wonder if I had something wrong.

"Be that as it may," Haldan said to the two of us, "since I am the lady's healer, in charge of her while she is with child, I believe my orders should be taken not only into account, but as _law_."

Elrohir barked a short laugh, which he quickly stifled at the glare that Haldan gave him.

"I can see I need to set some rules." Haldan dismounted and led his horse nearer to Elrohir's. "For one thing, the dried meat you've been giving her is adequate, but the woman needs a fresh kill every once in a while. And were we to stop early, say every third day, I would be able to gather some greens for her diet as well. But this endless riding from sunup to sundown does not afford time for either hunting or gathering. And that is not even taking into account the sheer physicality of riding for weeks. She needs time to regain strength every once in a while."

"Haldan," I said awkwardly, "I am fine."

"For now, maybe, but for how long, if we keep this up? You'd not allow a woman under your care, in your same condition, to be doing this either, and do not say that you would, because I'd not be believing you."

He had me there. I was all for a woman continuing her prior routine, but riding endlessly for weeks certainly hadn't been my routine in any way. I did go riding often, but only for leisure and only to give Dori exercise. It was a good thing that I had been riding in my spare time. I could keep my seat much longer without growing so sore I'd need liniment at the end of the day.

Elrohir agreed to keep a keen eye out for a likely place to stop, but he assured Haldan that this was not it. He knew of a water source not far from here, and that is to where we rode. It took us another hour to reach it, and by then the sun was fairly low in the sky. Elrohir took his bow and immediately went hunting, even in the waning light. And Haldan, true to his plans, went on an expedition to gather greens, taking our cooking pot to contain what he found. He left me with explicit instructions to 'take some weight' off my feet, so as soon as I got a fire going and some water on for tea, that's exactly what I did.

Elrohir returned less that an hour later—it had grown almost completely dark—with three quail hanging from his belt. And Haldan came back a little later than that, with the pot stuffed with things green.

After I had started a fire, I'd unpacked what little we'd need for the night. I know we'd only been traveling for three days, but I was enjoying this trip so much more than the one before. I was very grateful that constant retching didn't seem to be a part of my life with this baby. Heaving every few hours when I was carrying Leofa made for a long, tiresome trip. I did not have Legolas staring daggers at me, when he'd look at me at all, nor did I have to endure hearing any of his cruel words. And I rejoiced that Elrohir seemed to not relish pranks, without his twin or some Elves his same age to egg him on.

I went with Haldan to the nearby stream, and we washed a bit of the travel dust from our hands and faces, as well as filled our water skins in preparation for the next day. I was so hungry, I fancied that I could smell those birds cooking, from where I stood by the stream. But I didn't own Elven senses, so I knew such a thought was fanciful to say the least.

But once I was back by the fire, the aroma of the birds had my stomach growling and my mouth watering. I had not known how hungry I was until the quail had been placed over the fire, and the sizzling and steam they let off made me dizzy with a desire to eat. I sat there watching the cooking, wishing the quail done, and snitching bites of the greens to tide me over.

With the birds finally cooked, Elrohir doled one out to each of us. We put the pot of greens in a place we all could reach. We used our hands and teeth—no utensils were necessary, after a little cooling for the quail. We were quiet for the most part during the meal, but at one point Elrohir spoke:

"Haldan," he said, a dour grimace on his face, "what sorts of greens did you find?"

"The usual, Elrohir," he said testily. "Chickweed, dandelion, clover, milkweed, with a few wild onion tops thrown in for more flavor."

"Dandelion?" Elrohir almost sneered. "You know I hate dandelion, Haldan."

I wanted to laugh—the face Elrohir was making looked as though he were being asked to swallow a slug.

"I love dandelion," I said, to ease Elrohir's temper.

"Well, you can have mine," Elrohir said, as he grabbed my hand and made as if to spit the offending vegetation out of his mouth.

I snatched my hand away and he laughed, and swallowing hard, he started looking through the pot of greens and being choosy about what he chose. How he could discern one green from another in the near total darkness, I certainly did not know, except that he was an Elf, after all.

We finished our meal, cleaned up the campsite and banked the fire. The Elves told a few stories as I lay down on my bedroll and listened. It wasn't long before I was drifting to sleep.

Another day under our belts—or saddles, as it were. Roughly twenty days more, if we kept up this pace. I was too tired to figure out how long it would be if we went by the new law Haldan was trying to lay down. Maybe tomorrow as I rode I could figure that out…

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	8. Of Falls and Bitterness

_Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien._

In the end the trip took us twenty-five days to complete; much less than the amount time it had taken when Gimli and Legolas had been my escorts. They had been easier on me then, than Elrohir was with me now, and in truth, I'd needed them to be. But this time I felt able to ride and not wretched with nausea the entire way.

Yet the trip was not uneventful. Not at all. You might say we had a life and death moment at one point, when we were very near to our destination—thanks be for the nearness—because I am speaking of my own life and death, here.

On the twenty-fifth day, we'd stopped beside the Bruinen shortly before noon—at my insistence—when we only had two hours left to complete the trip. I was dirty and bedraggled, and I was adamant that I be allowed to bathe and change into at least the cleanest clothes I owned before barging in on Celeborn in Imladris. I knew he might not take to me well, when he found out my reason for being there, and I wanted to make the best impression I could.

It took me not long to wash myself and my hair and get dressed. I was forced to wear the loosest pair of leggings I owned, which, thanks be, were also the cleanest. However, I was afraid I might split a seam in them, because the baby was finally making itself obvious to me, if not everyone who saw me, and only the top button of the tunic I wore could be closed. I instead left all the buttons open and simply wore a nicer shirt beneath. When I was finished, and my hair back into its roll at the nape of my neck, I not only felt cleaner, I knew I had to look at least marginally better.

When I was satisfied that I'd improved myself as much as was possible under the circumstances, I began to get nervous. As fully as Haldan had assured me that Celeborn would give me welcome—and I'd asked him on more than a few occasions—I was almost petrified of facing the Elf lord with my tale of being with child. I dreaded disclosing that the Elven half of this baby's parents not only did not choose a conception date for the child, he did not believe he was the father at all.

_What a mess this was… And I seemed to excel at getting myself into these fixes. I wondered at my character flaws that allowed such turmoil to enter my life. Lust is plain and simply the worst of my failings, but I do believe I have truly learnt my lesson this time, as far as fleshly dealings are concerned. I firmly held Elladan accountable for this debacle—we'd discussed this issue many times before he'd finally convinced me a child would not be forthcoming from any union between us, and I had eventually given in to him. But this fact was plain and was indeed my doing: I _had_ given in._

We mounted the horses and began the slow descent into the valley that held Rivendell. We were not quite halfway down when Dori slipped and slid on some loose stones. I tried to guide her the best I knew how, but we kept sliding, and I could not avoid it when Dori bumped Elrohir's horse in the rear. His horse did not like that to say the least, and he kicked at Dori and me. Elrohir had him settled down in just seconds, but Dori had taken the kick high on a front leg.

I heard the snap of Dori's leg as she went down. I went with her, the both of us slipping right off the path and downward. We slid for a ways, and I finally got free of the stirrups—I knew I'd be crushed if she rolled over me. And then we began tumbling.

As it was, I could feel the damage I was taking. My descent ended when I banged into a large boulder, hitting my left side so hard, the breath was knocked out of me. And my head—my poor head that had been aching before, would now have good reason to hurt. When I finally came to rest, I hit it so hard against the huge rock, it was a wonder I'd not been knocked out.

I was stunned, but I was aware. I could hear my poor, broken mare—my beautiful Dori—thrashing somewhere below me, her shrill cries assaulting my ears. I knew at least one of her legs was broken, so my first thought was that someone must end her misery.

"Elrohir!" I cried. "Please see to Dori."

I had no concept of how far down the mountainside I had fallen, so I was getting angry when no one responded to me. I tried to lift my head, but it made the world spin so greatly, I knew I'd be sick if I did not settle down.

I must have blacked out then, because when I came to, Haldan was bending over me with his eyes closed and one of his hands in the middle of my forehead.

"Haldan," I said, and was astonished at how weak my voice sounded in my ears, "has Elrohir seen to ending Dori's suffering?" I'd not thought to listen for her, and my poor, muddled mind did not take in the eerie quiet that now encompassed the area surrounding us.

Haldan opened his eyes and nodded at me. "He's seeing to her now."

I was tired of lying here in the rocks—I had a big one square in the middle of my back—so I made as if to rise. The dizziness was severe, but I was determined to be back on my feet, which was not going to be easy with Haldan trying to hold me down.

"Haldan," I commanded, "let me up now. I am bruised and my head is hurting, but I'm fine. Now let me up."

"You just settle down," he told me in his own commanding way. "I will tell _you _when I will allow you to rise. And be still! I cannot see to this cut on your face with you squirming around."

I had not noticed that he held a cloth to my right cheekbone. Must be where I was cut. Even though I'd stayed conscious, that bang on my head had knocked me senseless. So I decided to cooperate with Haldan, at least for now.

I heaved a deep breath, which was a mistake. I had to have cracked a rib or two with the stabbing pain I had in the side of my chest as I breathed. While I lay there as quietly as I could, with rocks poking into me all along my back, I took inventory of how I felt.

I had a headache and was dizzy. Probably concussed, but only mildly, if at all. I started to lift my left hand to brush the hair from my face, but Haldan would not allow that either.

"Your arm is broken, Maeren," he said. "Keep it still until I have time to make it immobile."

"Does the other arm work?" I asked him. "This hair is tickling my nose something fierce!"

Haldan started chuckling at me then. And I joined him, until the pain in the broken ribs hit me. Haldan did me the favor of scraping the hair away from my face himself. By now Elrohir joined us, and when I saw his expression, I started weeping.

Seeing him made me all too aware that he'd just had to kill my gorgeous black horse. I should not have been stubborn when Leofa wanted to take her to Gondor. I should have allowed it. She would be alive now if I had.

"I am sorry, Maeren," Elrohir said. I could tell how badly he felt about Dori. "I should have had you go first, but I thought to protect you better from a fall did I lead us in."

"It is alright, Elrohir," I soothed him. "No one could have foreseen this happening."

"Would that we could make a litter for her," Haldan said finally. "But there is no way for us to transport her on a litter this far up."

"We're still far up on the mountainside?" I asked. "As far as I fell, it would seem we must be most of the way down."

"Well, _you_ almost are," he answered, "but the horses certainly aren't. He turned his attention back to Elrohir. "Go cut some strips of cloth, so that I can bind her arm to her chest. That will keep it fixed and not allow the bones to shift and break the skin."

I grabbed at Elrohir's sleeve with my good right hand before he left. "Bring plenty of binding material. I fear I have some broken ribs that would be better off bound."

Haldan looked to the rest of me then, feeling with both hands along my legs. When he got to my right ankle, he stopped when I gasped. He quickly unsheathed the knife at his belt and cut the boot from my foot.

"Broken as well," he announced.

It took Elrohir and Haldan almost an hour to bind me up to their satisfaction. Elrohir had fetched a water skin from his horse, along with Haldan's saddlebag containing his healing supplies. Haldan put what I thought was some powdered Valerian into a cup from the bag and mixed it for my pain. I gagged it down because it tasted vile, but I knew I would need it.

It was finally time to get me not only up, but also back up to where the horses were. It was arduous going, with Elrohir holding me, and Haldan trying to direct Elrohir's footsteps the shortest, safest route. By the time we reached the horses I was crying shamefully at all the pain I was in.

"I am sorry for being such a baby," I gasped.

"Nonsense!" Haldan answered. "I'd cry too if I were as banged up as you are."

Haldan mounted his horse and Elrohir handed me up to him. They had removed the saddle, so I was seated on a blanket situated just behind the horse's withers. I relaxed back into Haldan's chest, and his arms closed around me in a most comforting way. Even as broken as I was, I felt safe in his arms. That was saying much, since we were still perched on the side of a mountain I'd just rolled down, and riding bareback on a small winding trail. We moved off slowly, headed ever downward, the path twisting and turning and doubling back on some of the steeper inclines.

The pain was excruciating, but after only a few moments the Valerian began to work. The agony eased slightly, and I could recognize the obvious dulling of my senses. And then I felt something I did not expect—a feeling of well-being filled my mind, making it seem as if I truly didn't care if I ached or not.

I tried to fight my way out of the lethargy, because I knew what was happening. Haldan was giving me his strength. When I spoke, I could barely recognize my own voice. My words were slurred and slow.

"Haldan, do not do this."

"Do not do what, Maeren?"

"Do not be pouring your energy into me. You will need your wits about you when we get where we're going, if you intend to set my arm and foot to rights."

"Worry not, young one," he said. "I will have strength to spare for that. Just close your eyes and do not fight me, and we will be arriving before you know it. If you sleep, I will not be expending much energy at all."

Bribery. I could see a carrot when it was dangled right in front of me. Haldan knew me well—if I thought it might ease him by my sleeping, I would be more apt to do it, and he would ultimately get what he wanted. But I decided to not fight sleep. It would make the trip go faster. And I _was_ tired…

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I awakened an undetermined amount of time later in the Healing Halls of Imladris. I was in a most comfortable bed, but then, any bed is comfortable after camping on the ground for weeks on end.

I looked around to see if anyone was about, but I saw no one—at least as well as I could look at anything. The cut on my right cheekbone had cause my eye to swell almost completely shut. It didn't matter. I hoped to go back to sleep, because the pain was bad again. But before I could doze off, Haldan came in bearing a steaming bowl of something that smelled divine, yet it somehow nauseated me.

"I see you are awake," he said quietly. "I won't have to be a beast and wake you up to eat."

"It smells delicious, Haldan," I said, "but I don't quite feel like eating."

"It is barely anything, and if I spoon it into you, you needn't expend any strength at all."

"It isn't that," I said, hoping I didn't sound complaining, "it's the headache and dizziness. I'm not sure I will keep it down if I were to eat it."

"Well try for old Haldan, will you not?" His sweet face looked so pitiful, I would have laughed had I felt just the tiniest bit better.

So I had some soup and promptly lost it, just as I told Haldan I would do. He didn't seem to mind. That made one of us.

Once I was settled again, I said, "There's something wrong, isn't there Haldan?"

"Of course there's something wrong, Maeren," he answered me smartly. "You fell halfway down a mountainside this afternoon. No one could come away from that unscathed."

"No, Haldan," I said, "there's something wrong with the baby—isn't there?"

He closed his eyes momentarily, and when he opened them again, he said, "You feel yourself bleeding, don't you?"

"Yes," I answered.

"When I handed you down to Elrohir on our arrival, there was blood on the blanket upon which you'd been seated. I examined you while you were sleeping, and while I found you to be bleeding, it hasn't been at a great rate, at least up till now. I hope you don't mind, but I must examine you again. Even if you mind, I do insist."

So Haldan examined me, and when he had me clothed and covered once again, he looked at me solemnly, as if he were trying to decide how much he was going to tell me.

"Maeren," he said, "you are bleeding, though not profusely. I have a few tricks to maybe stop it, but mostly you must lay flat and still. I will not lie to you, since you know almost as much about this subject as I, but any bleeding at this point is never good for a woman with child. You might go on to lose the baby, but I refuse to say that it is inevitable. I will go fetch the herbs that may help, and return as soon as I might. The quicker we get them into your system, the sooner they can work."

He left without me answering him. And I do admit, he might not have liked my answer at all. My first inclination had been to tell him not to bother. We'd all be much better off if I did lose the baby. I did not want to be a mother again, especially with Elladan being such an ass about not being this child's father. I was too old and set in my ways to start all over again with nappies and midnight feedings. I wouldn't know what to do with a baby in my life at this point, especially having to raise it alone. With it being Elven, I probably wouldn't live long enough to see the job done properly.

I immediately felt ashamed of myself. How could I be so hard-hearted? I'd been a mother twice before, and I had loved my babies from the moment I'd first seen them. With Tristin, I'd loved him even before he was born. And if I were honest, I loved Leofa the same way as well.

Could I grow to feel anything but dread for this little one I now carried? I did not know the answer. And probably right now was not the time to try and think of a response to such a question. I was hurt and my head concussed. I was not thinking clearly.

I would do all that Haldan asked of me. If I were to have a change of heart later, I know I would not be able to live with the guilt, if I did not do all that was possible now to prevent the baby's loss.

But I fell asleep again before Haldan returned. I would have liked it better had I not done so. I dreamed of the accident, and Dori's tormented cries as she thrashed about below me. But at the point in the dream where I could no longer endure the agony of the poor horse's anguish, I opened my mouth to scream. At that same moment, Haldan woke me with a gentle touch. I jumped with the startlement of it all, jarring myself so that every single hurt I'd acquired stabbed through me. I closed my eyes and could feel the tears leak from them as I tried to regain even marginal control of myself.

"I am sorry for scaring you, Maeren," Haldan said with contrition.

"I was having a nightmare, so I'm glad that you woke me. Night_mare_. I was dreaming of Dori and the accident."

Haldan helped to ease me up so that I could drink the decoction he'd made. I was very thankful that at least my right hand and arm was unhurt, so I could help hold the cup to my lips. The drink was sweet, not bitter as I had imagined it would be. I tried to pick out the flavors I could taste, but all I knew was that the sweetness did not come from honey.

Haldan laid me back down and smoothed the covers around me. He sat in the chair beside the bed, and I closed my eyes, begging for sleep. I didn't realize I was crying again, until I felt Haldan wipe the tears from the sides of my face where they'd fallen.

"There now, Maeren," he said soothingly, "between the two of us, you'll keep that baby inside where it belongs. Worry not about it, sweetheart."

What Haldan did not know was how ambivalent I was about keeping the baby safely inside.

I wanted to want it. I just did not.

I wished things were different. But we all know what wishing gets you—absolutely nothing.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I woke up sometime later. I had no concept of how long I'd been sleeping. It was still light outside, so I decided it had been some hours and not days. I honestly would not have been able to tell, if I went on my feelings alone.

And I did feel horrible. Every single inch of me hurt. And hurt badly. My broken arm and ankle throbbed, and even the slightest movement speared my side where the ribs were broken. My right eye was swollen shut and no amount of forcing the lid would make it open even the slightest bit. And of course my head hurt, but that had been going on for so long now, I was growing somewhat used to it.

I finally became alert enough to realize I was not alone. Lord Celeborn now sat in the chair beside the bed where Haldan had been. He was exactly as I remembered: piercing blue eyes and silvery blond hair that probably reached his waist. Sometimes it is hard to determine a body's true form when the body in question is robed from neck to feet, but I could tell he was well muscled and broad in the shoulders. _The better to do me bodily harm, I suddenly thought. _

I was mortified and nervous all at once. How did I face him and explain to him how his grandson was going to be a father—by accident—an idea against anything any Elf had ever known or heard of?

I was sure Haldan had told him everything. That was Haldan's way. Nothing was secret or sacred to him, if he had anything to do with it. And if Haldan hadn't told him, then surely Elrohir had. I braced myself when he greeted me.

"Good morning," Celeborn said regally.

"Morning?" I asked, my voice but a whisper, since my throat was so dry.

Celeborn filled a glass from the decanter of water on the table beside the bed and helped me to drink a few swallows. I thanked him as he helped me get settled again.

"Yes," he said, with a small smile. "You slept all of yesterday afternoon and completely through the night. I will spare you any questions about how you feel, because the answer is obvious. But fear not—the third day is always the worst. Believe me, I've had enough injuries in my lifetime to know of what I speak. So today will be wretched for you and tomorrow worse, unfortunately, but the day after will be the turning point, and then you will begin to feel markedly better."

He got up from the chair. "Now, I will go fetch Haldan. I insisted he go take some rest yesterday evening, but he would not have you left alone during the night. I wasn't busy, so I volunteered." He raised his brows and smiled at me again. "I am sure there are necessities to which you need to see to, and Haldan will know best how to help you without hurting you. He will be here very shortly."

I was glad that Celeborn had excused himself from helping me with the necessities I needed to do. How embarrassing would that have been? I was not exactly thrilled at Haldan 'helping' me, either, but he was who I had, and I was grateful for it. I, as a healer, helped many patients of the opposite sex in plenty of awkward situations over the years. Now it was my turn to be the patient and not the healer. I was having a difficult time coming to terms with that.

Celeborn left the room to seek out Haldan. He'd been pleasant. Not a scowl on his face or any harsh word. I was almost giddy with relief, but I would not let up on my defenses as far as he was concerned. He might have been reserving his anger for a time when I was not injured and defenseless.

But I could not leave the thought of how nice he had been. I might even call him sweet, if I had known him but a bit better.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I spent the next two days almost flat on my back in the Healing Halls. What joy. It was now Celeborn's referred to 'third day', and I was beginning to see why he would name it the worst of them all.

I still felt horrid—that had not changed. But I was very tired of feeling so bad and being restricted in every movement I made. And every chance I got, I was venting my spleen about it.

Poor Haldan. He was trying every way he knew to appease me. Fluffing my pillow, offering pain-relieving herbs. I was sure that by now he was giving them to me, not only to ease my pain, but also because their use would put me to sleep, and therefore, keep me quiet for a few hours. I apologized to him every time my voice grew sharp, but I'm sure one gets as tired of hearing 'I'm sorry' as another might get of saying it.

I'd not lost the baby as of yet. The bleeding had all but stopped. In all my time as a healer, if a woman suffered an accident such as the one I'd been involved in and bleeding had resulted, the baby was always lost. It was probably another miracle of Elven healing that I'd kept the baby inside so far. I thanked Haldan for his care of me, but I wasn't sure I meant it fully. At least as far as preventing miscarriage was concerned.

I'd not had another visit from the lord of Rivendell, at least that I was aware of. Celeborn could have come while I was asleep, but somehow I doubted it. I had a feeling I might see him tomorrow, the fourth day after the accident, and according to Celeborn, when the light would start shining for me again.

I hated being without the use of one of my arms, but it was my ankle that I truly regretted. Walking was such a basic thing—you had to use your feet to get anywhere at all.

But then, where would I be going? Exactly nowhere is where. Haldan would barely let me sit up to eat or drink, much less allow me to hobble around on one foot. 'The quieter—and flatter—you can stay, the less chance of miscarriage.' I was very sick of hearing him utter that sentence. If he did it one more time, I would scream at him.

Laying here so still, I was starting to feel the baby moving all the time now. Was it possible to marvel at the beginning of life and wish it away in the same thought? That is what I was doing, and I hated myself for the negative feelings that I had. If I lost the baby now, I would in all probability regret this ill attitude I fostered against the child within me.

I was just about to cry with frustration—Haldan had repeated the offending phrase again, when I had whined to sit up for awhile—when Elrohir came into my room. I had a room all to myself, because the Healing Halls in an Elven realm truly did not get much use in these days of peace.

I'd not seen Elrohir since that painful ride into Imladris over two days ago. In my foul mood this morning, I had decided that Elrohir had paid his debt to me, as he saw it, and would now have nothing more to do with me. I certainly could not fault him for that—he was Elladan's twin after all—and one must keep goodwill between family members if at all possible. So I was surprised to see his face today. As Elrohir entered, Haldan stopped to whisper something to him, and then Haldan left the room.

"Good morning, Maeren," Elrohir said, much too cheerfully in my opinion.

"And what, pray tell," I asked with a sarcastic lilt to my tone, "is so _good_ about it, Elrohir?"

"I can see it is a rainy day for you, my dear," he said with a slight smile.

"Have you rain boots that I might slosh around in the muck of my life, Elrohir?" I asked him. "But, of course, I could not put them to use anyway. Haldan will not even let me sit up! Why wish for them at all?"

"Oh my, but you have a case of the nasties this morning, lady," he said, finally scowling. "Poor Haldan. No wonder he begged me to relieve him of his care of you for a while."

I'm sure my jaw dropped open. I was immediately ashamed. I closed my eyes and began to weep.

Elrohir brought out a hankie from somewhere and put it into my good right hand as he sat in the chair by the bed.

"I am sorry, Elrohir," I said. "I do not know what has come over me. I cannot lie here hour after hour—it is driving me mad!"

"Today it is driving you mad," he said. "Tomorrow will be better. And you know if you do not lie still, you could very well lose that baby of yours."

"Baby of _mine_, Elrohir?" I asked bitterly. "The baby isn't entirely mine, you know. Your brother had quite a bit to do with it, I can assure you."

He passed over my statement as if I'd not even said it. "You are used to being the healer and not the healed. It is quite different, is it not?"

"Quite," I said, lifting my eyes to his. "And if not for this baby of _mine_, I could be up and around by now."

Elrohir stared into my eyes until I had to look away. I was certainly not at my best today, and he was getting to see me as he never had.

He finally said, "Get up, then, if you are bent on doing it. I'll not stop you, and I'll see that Haldan does not either. You decide if the baby is worth the bother or not."

With that he got up from the chair and left.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	9. Contemplations and Waiting

_Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien._

Elrohir's acid remark struck deep, as if he'd hit me—right between the eyes.

'_You_ decide if the baby is worth the bother or not', was what he had said. It had stung, as a slap to the face in anger would have, but he'd not said it with malice of any sort.

Elrohir had been distant with me since Elladan and I had fought. Not unkind—not unfriendly. Just holding himself away from me. He seemed somewhat like a closed book: sitting there within my reach, ready for me if I would grasp for it, but, as it sat there in front of me, it remained unopened and unable to be read.

But now he'd been honest with me, and it was time to be totally honest with myself. I couldn't be angry at him or feel abused in any way because Elrohir had left my fate, and that of my unborn child's, right where it belonged—with me.

Over the years, I often allowed others to make decisions for me. I'd done it all my life. First it was my parents, then Dustin. Then it was Aragorn and after him my brothers. Now Elladan. It was the way of the world for the woman to defer to the man. I surely complained about it, but what did I actually do about it, as concerned my own life? Nothing, is what.

The one and only thing I'd ever done in opposition to the conventions of the world was to become a healer, against all the well-intentioned advice of so many others, especially men. I'd not stopped to think about the pitfalls or obstacles that might block my way. I just knew I was a healer from the inside out, and I had to find a way to get trained. So I had. Lord Keodwen had been an exceptional man to have risked his reputation and good standing in the community of Edoras to take a woman as a trainee. But he had, to my everlasting gratitude.

My thoughts turned to examine my present life. I was with child, a fact I truly disliked, even had Elladan stayed and assumed his proper role as a father-to-be. I wondered how to reverse my thinking; how did I change my attitude, when I did not want this child in my life, whether I had a willing father for it or not?

Was that entirely true? Was not my unhappiness about the baby the result of the difficulties I'd had with Elladan? Yes and no. Had our conversation gone differently, and he had believed me when I claimed the child to be his, wouldn't he have rejoiced at the thought of a new life? The answer to that was a resounding 'yes'.

But I would still be faced with the same problems. I am forty-two and starting over with a child of my own, instead of looking forward to grandchildren, as other women my age might be doing. I liked my life exactly as it was, without the intrusion of another child at this point. Selfish? Yes, it was selfish, yet it is the way I feel. But if Elladan had been happy about the baby, I know in my heart that I would be happy about it, too. His joy would be infectious, and before I knew it, I'd be looking forward to this child's birth as I had looked forward to my other children's births.

But that is not how it is. Elladan has cut himself out of my life and does not want anything to do with this baby. I am older and more tired, and not looking forward to raising a tiny infant again. But I do feel, deep down inside, that as time goes on I will grow to love this small being I'm harboring under my heart.

I could fall back on that old familiar law my father had drilled into his children: you do the crime, you pay the price, and face whatever consequences befall you. I was willing to pay the price, but that did nothing to change my attitude. My attitude when I'd carried Leofa changed as soon as I knew his father would help me; that I was not up against a monumental task all alone.

So perhaps if I thought about this baby in the same way—

Tema and Haedren had pledged their support. They'd promised to stand by me—married or not—if I would but stay in Edoras and not come to Rivendell at all. I knew they would still hold with their promise if I returned with the baby. I had no fears about that.

But they were Human just like I was. This child would outlive us all before it was completely grown. I needed Elven support. If I had that, could I relax and just be its mother? I made a mental note to speak with Haldan today about this. If he would commit to this child, I could take a more serious look at this angle of the situation.

Then my thoughts turned to something that had hounded me since Leofa's birth. If I returned to Rohan—with a baby and unwed—could I stand up to the titters and gossip that would follow me? I'd not even thought about such a move with Leofa. I'd been prepared to lie about his paternity and create a dead husband to ease my life from ridicule. Could I truly pay the price of my misdeed this time? Could I march into Edoras, an Elven baby in my arms, and look people straight in the eye and tell them their whispers and gossip were true? I was unwed. I did have a child—and an Elven child at that—with no wedding band on my finger.

This was a truly difficult question, one I had not allowed myself to dwell upon until now. I thought about the people of Edoras. Were there some who would delight in my social downfall? I was certain there were. But there were also some who would embrace me, no matter if I came back unwed with a baby. Eomer was one of them. I'd lied by omission to him, but he was a true friend, not just in name, but also in deed, and I knew in my heart he would love me, even if I came back in dishonor with a child in my arms. He would try and make sure that I would not bear this indignity for long, if it were in his power. But I was finished with falseness of any kind. If I did go back in this manner, I would insist he not lie about the child's beginnings or paternity. He would not like it, for my sake, but I think he would abide by my wishes.

I was making progress with my inner struggle about my child. I would still be too old and settled to make having a baby something that I would completely accept without any misgivings. But I would have my family—at least Haedren and Tema—to help me through some of the rougher times. The child would still be fatherless, but I knew I could live through that with my family's help. My only concern now would be Elven assistance, and I vowed to myself to speak to Haldan about that—after apologizing genuinely for my bad behavior this morning—as soon as possible.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I fell asleep after all my mental exercising. I was full of pain-relieving herbs, so it was not unexpected. But I was again assailed by dreams of the fall. Would I ever get over this? I was tired of seeing it, not only in my mind's eye while awake, but in my dreams, too.

It was the same dream, where I tumbled freely down the mountainside, finally slamming into a huge rock. But this time the instant I met that boulder, I startled awake, my breathing hitched and quick. I couldn't open my eyes at first—the pain was dreadful from the jarring of all my injuries. When the throbbing subsided some, I realized I was not alone. I opened my eyes to see Haldan's concerned face looming above me.

He was busily smoothing the covers around me, so I took one of his hands in my right one. "Stop, Haldan," I said quietly, and I smiled at him. He actually looked surprised by that. My tone wasn't caustic for the first time today. I asked him to sit down and he did.

"Haldan," I said, "I am so very sorry for being difficult. I will try and not let it happen again." At his raised eyebrows, as if he found my words hard to believe, I continued, "I do not blame you for being skeptical about that, but our mutual friend Elrohir has set me straight."

Haldan frowned at me then. "I will sear his ears with epithets if he hurt you!" he said.

I smiled at him again. "He did not hurt me, Haldan. He told me the truth. And it was something I needed to hear badly." I cleared my throat, preparing myself for what I wanted to ask Haldan. "I was, as I had been all morning, complaining to him about lying flat on my back. He and I exchanged words about the baby, and he finally told me to get up if I wanted to. And that he would tell you to let me do as I wished; that I was to decide if the baby was worth all the bother it was putting me through."

I looked into Haldan's beautiful face, and he was watching me intently.

"What did you decide?" he asked.

"I've decided nothing as yet. My life has taken a turn that I do not like, but it is very real, and wishing it different will not change anything, so I may as well stop it. But after much thought, I know that if I have the assistance and encouragement I will need, I _could_ have this baby and be happy about it. I've been so—"

I could not think of the word I was searching for.

"—despondent, Haldan. I've been despondent over the loss of Elladan's love. And being so heartbroken has made me lose sight of the important things I have in my life right now. My family, my son, you—even my skill as a healer. There are so many other things besides Elladan that fill my life; I cannot let my loss of him change everything for me.

"Haedren and Tema know about the baby." At Haldan's surprised expression, I quickly added. "I told them before I left. It was almost comical really, the story that Haedren told me of the night he caught Elladan sneaking around my house. When he confronted Elladan, of course Elladan was evasive, but Haedren wouldn't let up, and Elladan finally told him about us. So Haedren already knew half of the story, and when he faced me with it the day before we left Edoras, I couldn't keep it secret any longer. I told him all of it.

"He and Tema offered to help me. They said they didn't care what others thought or said, that they would love me—and the baby—no matter what. At the time I was still too shocked and angry over Elladan's attitude, and could not even consider staying in Edoras.

"But now—now that there is a crisis with the baby—I know Elrohir is right, and I need to finally make up my mind. I am going to have a child, whether I like it or not, whether its father accepts it as his or not. I can either make the best of it, or get up right now and let nature take its course."

"Maeren—" Haldan said, his voice discouraged. But I'd not let him finish his thought.

"That brings me to what I want to ask of you, Haldan. I would have basic, day-to-day help with a baby, if I go back to Edoras. What I am worried about now is having Elven aid. I know I cannot count on Elladan for help. He's shut me out of his life. I cannot depend on his having a change of heart about it at all. So I am asking you, Haldan, if this child is born and not miscarried, when my brother and Tema and I grow too old to care for it, will you take it and raise it as your own?"

Haldan's expression was one of such grief, I feared I'd hurt him one more time on this dreadful morning. But his words, when he was finally able to speak, told me it wasn't grief that I saw on his face, but him being completely overwhelmed with emotion.

He took my hands in his own and said, "Of course I would, Maeren. Have no fear of that." He stopped for a moment, gazing into my eyes before he went on.

"I had been wondering if you'd thought about all the repercussions of having an Elven baby, and I can see that you have. Since I did not want to plant any sort of negativity in your mind from something I might say, I've refrained from bringing the subject up to you." He smiled. "I should have remembered with whom I dealt." He settled my hands atop the blanket that covered me, and he got up to pace a short distance away. He then turned around to face me again, beginning a slow walk back toward me.

"I believe Elladan will come to his senses in the end, and accept the child, so my involvement will be only to assist him." He must have seen my dubious expression because he added, "I very much believe that. But I truly will not fault you whatever you decide. You are Human, and the thought of not seeing the child into adulthood must be heartbreaking, indeed. I could see how you might harden your heart to the baby now, before it is a complete reality to you." He paused for a moment, taking the time to rearrange the items on the table beside the bed, as if he were weighing each word he would say to me next.

"Maeren, if you want to just 'get up' as Elrohir suggested, I will have nothing to say about it, and I promise you will not get any censure from me whatever." I must have looked troubled or as if I disbelieved he would be able to be so unbiased when it came to a baby, because he repeated, with a shake of his head, "None, whatsoever."

I held out my hand to him and he sat down again and took it into his.

"Thank you, Haldan. Everything you say comforts me. I would tell you I must now make my decision, but I think I have already made it. Even though Elladan has deserted me, I remember our love, and this child was conceived of that love. I will hold that memory in my heart always, whether I have him in my life or not. And as long as I have aid and support where I need it, I think all will be well. So I will stay right where I am, flat as I can be, for however long you say I must be doing it—_and _with no complaining. You have my solemn word."

Haldan smiled at me then, his face practically beaming.

"I will check you now. I think if all goes to plan, you might at least sit up later today. Let's see about that examination now, shall we?"

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Directly after I made my decision, Haldan allowed me to gradually get up. The first few days it was sitting up only. But by the end of that first week, I was up trying to hobble with a crutch.

My new found freedom did not last, though. I was not up on my good foot for more than a day when the bleeding resumed. Not only that, but I had begun to have some contractions, as well. As soon as I lay myself down quietly, both would subside. It was apparent that I would truly be restricted during the rest of my confinement.

My hurts all healed quickly, even though I still could not avail myself of the use of two good legs. I spent most days reclining on a chaise that had been brought up into my room and placed on the veranda, where I could take sun during the day. Haldan completely approved of such things, and gave me leave to walk to and from it—as long as someone helped me—though that was almost the extent of my walking at all.

But true to my word, I found good in each of my days. I was not forever lamenting my being restricted to lying around in bed or on a couch all day. I asked and was granted, tasks of a quiet nature to accomplish. I asked for someone to look for the gowns I wore before Leofa was born, but was told they were not found. So I took up the needle again, though it was the least thing I wanted to do. I helped the seamstress Lirenneal to sew gowns for me. I discovered that sewing on the filmy material the Elven women favored for their gowns to be a trial at first. But Lirenneal showed me the tricks she used to accomplish straight, even seams, and soon I was sewing like a professional seamstress myself.

Days turned into weeks, which in turn dragged into months. Before I thought it possible, five months had passed, each day a repeat of the next, day after long day.

On one particularly trying afternoon, I was beginning to feel as if my quarters were literally closing up on me. Even the fresh air of the veranda had not eased me as it usually did. Haldan stayed with me most mornings, but then he would have to see to his tasks in the Healing Halls, and I'd be alone again for the rest of the day. Rarely, but sometimes, Elrohir would pay a call. I suspected he was not in residence most of the time I did not see him, but I never asked and he never said.

Celeborn had visited me often since I'd come to Rivendell, but he never stayed for long. Perhaps it was my more exuberant than usual greeting that particular afternoon that set him on his path to see that I had company more often.

Celeborn came to visit me that day somewhat after the midday meal, which, as usual, I had taken alone. In the course of our conversation, he told me that being lord of an Elven realm was not completely fulfilling, especially in times when Elven populations were declining, as Elves sought Valinor instead of remaining here in Middle-earth. So he'd taken up an old pastime, to pass the time: Painting. To my surprise, he enlisted me as his latest subject.

I protested that he should ask Lirenneal to pose for him, as she was a much more beautiful subject than I, but he would not hear of it. He insisted that while my beauty might not be conventional, it was there for any who would see it, and he found me immensely interesting—enough so to be the object of his latest work. I knew the truth—he sought to make my monotonous days go by more quickly.

As I might have said before, he is a very sweet Elf.

So I sat reclined while he painted me for hours almost every day. I lay on the couch outside on the veranda—the better to take advantage of the natural sunlight.

I truly loved our sessions. He was a kind Elf, quiet-spoken and gentle. Haldan assured me that Celeborn did have a temper, it was just not easily roused. But he encouraged me to never try and rouse it, for I would regret it immensely if I succeeded.

Celeborn and I had many discussions. Some were simple; perhaps of the weather or of how beautiful the trees outside my room were becoming as their leaves turned yellow, then dark gold or even red as the first days of autumn were upon us.

But sometimes our conversations were almost arguments, of a sort. Not true arguments—neither of us shouted or even got angry. But if we disagreed on a subject, we would try to get the other to understand our own viewpoint. Debates, if you will. They could get lively, but never mean.

I was on the second story in the Healing Halls, so rather than bring his art supplies to and from my room every day, Celeborn opted to leave his easel and brushes by a desk which sat in the corner. When I questioned Haldan about why I was on the second floor, he told me that it was where his room was, and it was easier for him if I remained there. I asked if I could not be moved to the room I once inhabited, years ago when I was awaiting Leofa's birth. He was evasive when he answered me, but I knew in my heart why he wanted me in the Healing Halls.

This condition I had acquired in the fall down the mountainside that caused me to bleed when I put myself under any sort of strain—even of being completely upright without any hobbling or walking—was very dangerous. The problem was not exactly brought about by the fall—it had more to do with the inside workings of the womb itself. The accident had only alerted me to its presence.

As a healer, I'd seen it before, but when I had tended such women with child, when the bleeding began, whether it was brought about by an accident or labor itself, most of the time neither mother nor child survived. It is what happened with Saedren's wife Aundra, although her bleeding did not start until after her baby was delivered. Her child survived, while she did not. I knew that Haldan did not want me far from his hearing, should I begin to bleed profusely, although I hadn't any notion what he would do about it if I did. I fully expected to bleed to death upon the birth of my child, just as Aundra had.

But with any luck, my baby would live. I was surprised the first time I had this thought. I knew I would more than likely die, but I hoped that my child would not. It made me sad and afraid to think that my life would end, but I was elated to have such a healer as Haldan tending to me, so that my baby might survive, and the surprise that thought gave me was a welcome one.

I finally loved the child within me.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

"Haldan," I said one morning, "I need to speak with you, if you aren't too busy."

"Now what would I be busy with, if not you?" he absently asked me, not looking up from his task. "There are no others here in the Healing Halls, so I suppose you have my undivided attention, do you not?" He still did not look at me.

I found his answer somewhat ironic, since he'd moved the narrow cabinet containing the healing herbs over by my bed today, and he was now going through it and taking inventory of what was there and what he needed. _Undivided attention? Perhaps not._

I thought about how to word what I wanted to say. I decided to just say it—that was what usually worked best for me. "When the baby comes," I said tentatively, "if there is a question of saving my life or the baby's, I want you to concentrate on the child."

Haldan immediately looked up at me, no longer distracted by the herbs. I saw on his face that he wished I'd not become aware of the danger my baby's birth posed to my very life. I watched his expression—that of someone whose dear friend faced death, and there was not much that could be done about it. He looked bereft for a moment, but he pulled an austere mask over his features before he spoke again.

"Such will not be necessary, Maeren," he said directly. And he resumed rifling through the herb packets in the drawer he was checking.

I could not be a party to him denying the truth, not when my child's very existence depended on his reactions during its birth.

"Haldan," I said, trying to make him see reason, "we both know that the baby's birth will be devastating—probably to both me and the child—and I want you to promise to look after the baby first."

"I plan to look after the child," he said, sounding almost offended, as if I were treading on his precious healer's toes. "But I also plan to look after you. Both of you will make it through this birth, perhaps not unscathed, but alive. You have my word on that."

He was making me angry now. I'd watched my sister-in-law bleed to death before my very eyes, while I stood by helpless. If he was standing here telling me there was something I could have done to prevent that—well, he was just not going to tell me that, because it wasn't true.

I sat up straighter in my bed. "As you no doubt know," I started angrily, "with this type of presentation—bleeding present before labor has even started—both me and the baby living through such a labor is highly unlikely. I'd venture to say it isn't possible."

"I did not say that you laboring and giving birth and both of you surviving was possible or even probable," he said, although not quite in such a high and mighty tone as he'd used before. "But I have my ways, my experience, and my superior training to see me through the birth of your baby. You will both live, if I have anything to say about it."

"Just willing it, will not make it so," I said quietly.

"I am more than just wanting this, Maeren," he said earnestly. "I know I can do this. It will depend on your cooperation, however." He closed the drawer in the herb cabinet in which he'd been working and came to sit on the side of my bed.

"I know this will sound absurd, but I am going to say it anyway, because it is truly how I feel: I thank the Valar for your accident, because without it, I would not have been alerted there was a problem at all. Back when Elrohir confronted you, giving you the choice to decide the child's fate, I inwardly prayed you would not choose to let nature take its course, if you decided to rise from your bed. I already heavily suspected this problem, and I knew the baby would not survive a miscarriage, but even then, I had serious doubts about you coming through it unharmed.

"I have seen this condition many times before, and over the years I have developed theories about it. The women afflicted with this problem are almost always older—be it a first baby or a seventh. They are assailed with headaches—sometimes severe—that only respond to quiet and rest. You've been having them, too, haven't you?"

I pursed my lips, hating to be caught not telling my healer a symptom I'd been having, but I did nod my head.

"They've not been so bad the past few months," I said, but then stopped, realizing I'd been almost completely flat on my back for quite a while now, and the headaches were, for the most part, gone.

"The swelling of the feet and ankles is also present," Haldan continued. "Now all of those symptoms do not always occur in this condition, I grant you. They can be present and nothing untoward happens at the birth. But in these severe cases such as yours, unless something occurs such as your accident, labor eventually begins, the baby is born, and then the overwhelming bleed happens."

Haldan stopped and took a deep breath, as if fortifying himself to speak his piece. As if he needed to shore himself up before he told me the entirety of his mind.

"I am going to explain something to you, and I want you to listen—no interrupting." At my nod, Haldan continued. "You will go into labor naturally and hopefully have the baby in a reasonable amount of time. I will keep a close eye—and ear—on the situation, often checking the baby's heartbeat and rate. If you begin bleeding at any time during the labor, I will then use surgical intervention to deliver the baby."

I must've blanched, because he reached out with one hand and laid it against the side of my face. I could feel the familiar Elven tingle where his fingers touched my skin.

"I am going to be completely honest with you," he continued, and his face was so grave I knew he was telling me the truth as he knew it. "I have attempted, more than once before, what I have planned for you."

He took his hand from my face and placed it into his lap. I could see by his expression he didn't want to tell me what he was going to say, but he'd promised to be forthcoming.

"I'm not sure you are aware, but there is a ranger settlement across the Bruinen from us, from which Estel originally hailed. Elrond had been aligned with this group—the Dunedain—since they came into being, actually, so I was privileged to go there myself on uncounted occasions. And they always welcomed my skills as a healer.

"It was with the women of the settlement that I became aware of this condition at all. On three separate occasions a woman went into labor, and shortly after each birth a devastating bleed happened. The first time I had to watch as the woman simply bled to death. That was disheartening, as you can attest. The second and third times, I had been back here to Rivendell and had conferred with Elrond. He gave me copious advice about surgical intervention, if this were to happen again. And it did. I was unsuccessful in saving the mother either time, even with Elrond's suggestions, but the babies lived and thrived. However, I learned much from those cases, and I know I can do it this time and be completely successful. It will be tricky, and I will need several assistants, but I have no doubt about what I must do. Do you trust me, Maeren?"

I was stunned. Surgery? To take a baby? I'd often wished such a thing could be accomplished, but I'd never tried it myself, and I knew Lord Keodwen had not attempted such a thing, either. Being cut upon was a terrifying proposition.

So I thought about his question. Of course I trusted Haldan—implicitly. But this was not a matter of trust. It was a matter of knowing birth and labor and what results could be expected at any given time. The results in my case, could not be anything but bad.

Yet Haldan believed—truly believed—that he could see both the baby and me through this harrowing birth. I knew I stood precious little chance of surviving without his surgical skill. So what did I really have to lose?

"I do trust you, Haldan," I finally said, although I might have sounded somewhat uncertain. "But I still need your promise. Will you see to the baby first—make sure it lives? Although he doesn't deserve it, I would give Elladan this final gift. My life is forfeit with a normal birthing process—we both know this. So if your surgery wins a reprieve for me, I will be most grateful. But if it does not, I want the baby to survive. For Elladan. Do you promise me this, Haldan?"

"I promise you, Maeren," he said solemnly, "that the baby will have the utmost attention. But you are also my patient, and I will do everything in my power to get you through this birth alive."

Haldan took one of my hands. "I _must_ see you through. It would hurt me too much to fail in this."

I squeezed his hand. I knew he would do his best, but I also knew if he failed it would devastate him.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

**A/N: I am no medical expert and am not trying to be. I'm sure there are glaring things wrong in Maeren's medical situation. I pretty much decided she'd have a cross between preeclampsia and placental abruption. The symptoms don't all match, but what the hey…**

**Oh and the Dunedain settlement across the Bruinen is something made up by me.**


	10. Discussions and Eavesdropping

_Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien._

A few days later I was again posing for Celeborn as he painted me. It was mid afternoon, and the light was waning. He would usually decide when the light was not to his advantage as a day wore on, so since he'd said nothing yet and he was still painting, all I could do was pose.

Not that I minded at all! There was nothing to posing for him. I lay back in the chaise as naturally as I always did and he painted. And I had company for the hours he continued, so I hoped he kept painting for as long as he would.

He would not let me see his progress. He would take the canvas with him at the end of each day. He said that he wanted it near to hand so that he might add details to it that he did not need my presence to complete. I think he simply did not want me peeking.

This afternoon Celeborn was thoughtful, not chatting casually with me as he usually did. I finally could take his silence no longer.

"My lord, is there something bothering you?" I asked.

He looked at me, surprised. "No, why would you think such?"

"You are very quiet today."

He looked at me long, as was his habit while he painted me, but this time I thought he was making some other judgment. He finally looked back to the canvas and began to paint.

"I have been thinking of the situation you are in, Maeren," he finally said. "About the baby…"

This was only the second time we'd discussed this subject. I didn't know what to say to him.

"I am ashamed of myself, if that makes your opinion of me any less severe," I said, ducking my head.

He looked at me again, this time with even more surprise. When he finally spoke, I was shocked by his words.

"I was not put here on Middle-earth by the Valar to be in judgment of you. That is for you to do. It is what you decide about yourself and your behavior that is important, not what I or anyone else might think about you.

He bent back to his work and continued, "No, I have no judgment of you, not by any means. I have just been thinking about how this whole circumstance came to be. You have told me Elladan is the baby's father, and I was skeptical at first. I knew you not at all, but I have since decided, as I have gotten to know you, that there is no guile or deceit in you—you are speaking truth. So I have been considering the situation, wondering how something never heard of—at least by me—happened at all."

It suddenly occurred to me—I might have guessed wrong in his intention to paint me. I thought he wanted to ease my monotonous days by giving me his company, but perhaps he wanted to get to know me well; to determine for himself if I was being truthful about Elladan's role in my baby's beginnings. I was far from being angry at this revelation, though. He'd taken the time to learn about me—see if I was a truthful sort. He'd not just closed his mind as Elladan had at my outlandish claim.

"I am old by your standards—truly ancient in your eyes, I would believe," he went on.

I was fascinated by the Elf lord. Celeborn looked as if he had always been an artist; as if he'd always painted and the brush was just an extension of his arm.

"Perhaps that might give me some insight into the whys and wherefores of these circumstances," he continued. "I have lived through many things that, had I not seen them for myself, I would not have thought possible. I think I might be living through yet another of these types of events.

I was stunned. _There may be an answer for this riddle I'd found myself immersed in?_

After a short pause, Celeborn said, "I was thinking more of my grandson, than of you. When an Elf pushes the limits of Elven mores as much as Elladan has, he might could expect things to not go as planned."

"What mores has Elladan pushed?" I asked, completely bewildered.

"Maeren," Celeborn said, then paused for a minute. "It has ever been Elven tradition to _not _seek pleasures of the flesh outside of a marriage bond."

_Really? _Well that was certainly Human tradition as well. We'd both been wrong in our breaking of that one little convention, but I'd not known Elves held like values. Elladan had initiated our affair himself, many years ago on the banks of the Bruinen. He'd not mentioned any Elven traditions or mores then, that's for sure. And while we'd not truly become intimate, in all senses of the word, for years after that, it had been that evening on the riverbank that had gotten me stirred up into the pleasures of the flesh with him in mind at all. There was no doubt of that.

I was blushing at this point, so I opted not to speak. I nodded at Celeborn that I understood what he was saying.

"No matter how one might look at this child's beginnings," Celeborn added, "since this particular situation is completely unique, it must be the work of Those with power to make such things occur. What else explains it?"

"Are you saying this may be the direct work of the Valar?" I asked, completely shocked by what he was telling me. I'd known Elves a very short while; short in their reckoning of things. While I believed in our supreme beings, I never truly pictured them as having any true influence on physical happenings in my world. _Perhaps I'd been terribly shortsighted? Why would They bother making something extraordinary happen in my puny little life? Or maybe, it wasn't my life they'd hoped to influence…_

"I think we would be foolish to discount the evidence," Celeborn said. "Arwen was the last child born in Imladris. For millennia Elves brought no new life into this world. The darkness of Sauron's increasing power clouded the hearts of us all; we could not, in good conscience, bring Elflings into this place of strife, as uncertain as life was at the time. Yet here—and now—after the Dark Lord has been defeated—an Elfling is on the verge of being born."

I ran my hand over my distended abdomen. _A miracle? Imagine…_

Celeborn looked at me again and smiled, then his gaze ran over my form, no doubt checking something in my pose. He bent back to his canvas and began painting again.

One might have thought Celeborn's statements would have rendered me speechless, and for a moment, I was. But I quickly regained my wits, and I thought carefully about what I would say before I answered him. I braced myself to speak of such private things to this Elf lord I was conversing with.

"Although no one needs to be coupling with another without a marriage bond," I said without looking at him, "my reasons for choosing to have no bond between Elladan and me were unselfish, at least I believed them to be."

I glanced up at Celeborn and saw that he was watching me closely, listening carefully to every word I said.

"I loved Elladan with all my heart—with my entire being. We both wanted to be with each other—in that way—and by my reckoning, the only way I could consent to our being together was if there was _not _a marriage bond. I believed—I still do—that had I agreed to bond with Elladan, he would have chosen a Mortal life. I do not want to be responsible for him choosing in such a way."

"The very act of which you speak gives those involved a bond of a kind, whether they say vows or not," Celeborn declared. He gazed at me momentarily, his artist's eye checking another detail in my pose, and then he bent his head to the canvas once more. Without looking up, he continued, "And a child as a result would only strengthen that bond."

After a few careful strokes of his brush, he straightened and looked at me again.

"Do you not see," Celeborn asked me, his eyes trained precisely on mine, "that you would not be responsible for Elladan's choice in any event. The choice is his, not yours."

I was stunned again in the space of a few short minutes. Of course Celeborn was right! Who was I to insist that Elladan choose one way or another? How arrogant had I been? It was his life, after all, and his choice. I had been holding fast to this stance of mine for over ten years. And look where I was now—having an Elven child without benefit of a husband, if my body could hold it for the remaining weeks that it needed to be born.

Was it this simple? Elladan—and perhaps I—were being disciplined for our wayward behavior of dallying with each other with no intent to speak any vows? Was Celeborn saying that this extraordinary event might be an ushering in of a new age for the Elves? They'd all been leaving to Valinor. Was this perhaps the Valar's way of reminding the Elves that they should live their lives in Middle-earth to the fullest before they left for the Undying Lands?

Celeborn smiled warmly at me and resumed his painting.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

After another hour, Celeborn decided the sun was too low in the sky to continue. He started packing his things away. It always made me faintly sad when he left. I enjoyed his company and being stuck in a chaise or a bed, day in and day out, made for a lonely time for me. Everyone here was busy with his own tasks and had no time to be visiting with me, as I lolled about every day—all day. He was an exceptional Elf to be taking such time to see that I was not left alone for hours on end, if he could help it.

Celeborn left some of his brushes and cleaning supplies, as well as an easel, in a corner of my room, since he used them nearly every day. He always cleaned his brushes before he left. He was moving the easel inside when there came a knock at my door. I absently told whomever it was to enter. It was probably Haldan, coming to check on me.

But to my great surprise it was Elladan. My heart sped up and my face grew warm. I wasn't sure if I was going to weep or get up and throw my arms around him. _Eru, he was beautiful and all the feelings I'd ever had for him flooded through me. _

My attitude shocked me. When had I quit being angry with him? But the longer I sat here in total surprise, the more I knew that wasn't it. As the moments passed, I could feel the stone of my heart settle firmly in my chest. _I had just been startled, that's all._

He obviously knew I'd be in this room, because, unlike me, he showed no surprise upon entering. He was faintly bedraggled—as if an Elf ever found himself in such disarray. He must have come here directly after arriving in Rivendell. His leggings and boots were still damp from crossing the Bruinen. But he spared me not the slightest glance. He had his eyes on his grandfather.

I looked at Celeborn. He seemed as completely surprised as I felt. He had finished moving the easel and had started setting his brushes to rights. He had just dipped a brush in some solvent to clean it, but straightened as he saw who our visitor was. He put the brush down and wiped his hands on a cloth as he greeted his grandson.

"Elladan!" Celeborn exclaimed. "How glad I am to see you here." The two Elves walked toward each other and met just in front of my chaise. Celeborn's expression suddenly turned to one of inspection, and he placed his fingers on Elladan's chin. He eyed his grandson extensively for several seconds, turning Elladan's face from one side to another, as if he looked for something unseen to any mere mortal such as me.

He finally saw what he wanted to see—or not—and embraced his grandson. He then stepped back.

"How rude of me," he said. "Elladan, I believe you know Maeren." Celeborn's hand swept toward me.

I watched as Elladan clenched his jaw, but he refused to be churlish in front of his grandfather and ignore me altogether.

"Maeren," he said in greeting, barely sweeping his eyes past mine.

I decided to be civil as well, even though by now I was angry with him again and wanted him to leave my sight. So I just repeated his name as he'd said mine.

"Would the two of you like some time alone?" Celeborn asked, although I could see he was on the verge of smiling. _The stinker._

Elladan spoke up quickly. "No, that isn't necessary. I especially came to see you, Grandfather. It's been a long time since we've spoken."

Celeborn lifted his brows in resignation. He must have realized it would be much more difficult to reconcile us than the feeble attempt he'd just made.

But Celeborn would not be hurried. He resumed his cleaning, all the while asking Elladan questions.

"How is your sister?" he wanted to know.

"Well and beautiful, as always," Elladan replied.

"And her husband and children?"

"Estel is Estel. Same as usual. Eldarion is doing well in his training—and growing taller every day. He looks a great deal like his father, but then, all his children do. And the girls are growing up quickly. Melyanna is four now, but she thinks she must be at least Ellerrina's age."

They both chuckled at that, but then Celeborn asked another question, one I was eager to hear the answer to.

"And I understand Leofa is back in Gondor. How is the lad progressing in the training with the Tower Guard?"

I appreciated the fact that Celeborn was giving me a grand opportunity to learn of my son firsthand. I could feel my anger turn to anticipation as I waited for Elladan's answer.

I watched Elladan's face gradually relax as he talked about his family. And when it came time to speak of Leofa, his expression was almost that of a proud father.

"He is doing exceptionally well," he said with a smile. "He's taken to the sword as if he was born with one in his hand."

"Well thanks be that he wasn't!" I chimed in. I was overjoyed at hearing of Leofa, and I found I could not be angry right now.

Celeborn laughed at my remark, but Elladan clenched his jaw again.

"Indeed!" Celeborn said, chuckling still, as he turned toward me. "As his mother, you'd know the most about that."

"Leofa's birth was not exceptionally hard," I said, trying to forget my lover's presence. I spent every day confined, and I would take joy where it presented itself, no matter who might be around to try and ruin it. "Elrond delivered him, you know," I added, almost dreamily, as I remembered the day. Hearing about Leofa had lifted my spirit as nothing else had in quite some while.

"And now Haldan will see this new one into the world," Celeborn said.

Elladan apparently had had enough of our sentimentality.

"Grandfather, I will meet you later to talk. For now, I must go make myself presentable." He bowed his head slightly to Celeborn and turned to leave. For the briefest of moments, his gaze lingered on the swelling of my belly, but the moment passed and he continued out the door.

Celeborn was finished with his cleaning chores, so he picked up the canvas he'd been working on and walked to the side of the chaise.

"Are you ready to go to your bed, dear one?" he asked. Celeborn usually helped me back inside after he'd finished painting for the day. I was now over ten months into my term, and very ungainly, being made more so by my lack of exercise since the accident. Being confined to my bed, I found my legs had weakened some, and the ankle that had been broken had had little chance to bear much weight, so it still pained me to use it. Therefore, I required assistance to move any distance at all.

"No thank you," I replied. "I believe I will stay out here and drink in the air. The day has been uncommonly warm and beautiful, for mid-autumn. Besides, I feel somewhat closed in when I stay in that room for too long.

"I am sorry Elladan is still being stubborn," he said quietly.

"He can be as stubborn as a mule, for all I care," I replied, feeling my heart harden again. "Seeing him was confusing at first, but his attitude toward me has not changed. If he ever comes around to the correct way of thinking, it will be too late. I care nothing for him any longer. I'll not have him, even if he were to beg me the chance."

Celeborn raised his brows at my words, as if he might not believe what I said. He then disappeared inside for a moment, but returned only a few seconds later, a blanket in hand. He spread the cover over my legs. I smiled at his care of me.

"I'll call Haldan as I leave," he said. "I'm sure he will have a meal ready for you soon."

"Thank you, my lord," I said, and I reached for his free hand before he could walk away. "I want to thank you for everything. Do not think I ever take your presence for granted. Each moment you spend with me is a treasure."

"Likewise," he said, and I could see his smile as he left.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I lay on the chaise out on the veranda doing exactly as I'd told Celeborn I intended to do—I drank in the evening air. It was a rare warm autumn day, so with the blanket over my legs, I was really quite comfortable.

I'd been lying here quietly, thinking of all Celeborn had said to me earlier, and I suddenly realized it was growing dark. I must have been sitting here for well over an hour. The sky was that wondrous shade of blue—very dark, but fading lighter westward as it crept to the crest of the horizon, which was obscured by the cliffs surrounding Rivendell. There were vague hints of orange and pink to be seen, reflections from the setting sun. The first brave stars of the evening were showing themselves, and the air was crisp and clear.

Suddenly I heard movement on the veranda below me. Voices carried upward to where I could hear them. After a few moments, I was able to identify them—Celeborn, Elladan and Haldan.

"I asked you both to meet me here," Haldan started, "because I have something of great import to request of you."

"The summons I received said as much," Elladan said. "Now cease the secrecy and tell me why I am here. And it had better not be some ploy on your part to see Maeren and I reunited, or I will gladly kill you before I leave."

"It is no such thing," Haldan replied. "I've already asked Celeborn this favor—which he's graciously granted."

"I am tired and filthy," Elladan said impatiently. "Get to the point of this, Haldan—"

"—the point is," Haldan said deliberately, interrupting Elladan, "the birth of Maeren's child will not be an easy one. It could be fatal—for both of them. I will need help in delivering the baby."

"What has this to do with me?" Elladan asked angrily. "I am not that child's father."

"Regardless," Haldan answered, his tone just short of hostile, "I would think the preserving of two lives would be sufficient reason for you to help me if I ask it of you, Elladan."

I felt somewhat guilty at this eavesdropping I was doing, but what else was there for me to do? I could try to go inside to my bed under my own power, but chances were I'd fall in the attempt. And that alone could bring on the very thing Haldan was discussing with the two Elves on the veranda below me—the impending birth, along with the death, of me and my child.

"Elladan, listen," Celeborn said sternly. "Place your anger aside and hear what Haldan is saying. A natural birth of the child will more than likely mean the death of them both. I refuse to believe that your heart has hardened to the extent that you care not if your woman lives or dies, let alone an innocent child."

"She's no longer 'my woman'," Elladan said petulantly. I listened as either Celeborn or Haldan exhaled in exasperation.

"Be—that—as—it—may," Haldan said, enunciating each word precisely, "in order to hopefully keep them both alive, I will need trained assistants at my side during the birth. Elrohir has already agreed to lend his aid, as has Celeborn, but I truly stand no chance of accomplishing my aim unless you are there as well—for the purpose of controlling her pain, when I must surgically remove the baby from her womb."

"Surely you jest, Haldan!" Elladan said, his sickened tone grave at the gruesome suggestion. "A surgical birth? Are you out of your mind?"

"No, Elladan," Haldan said grimly, "I can assure you I am not jesting—and I am in full control of all my faculties. It is their only chance."

I had been trying to push my child's impending birth out of my mind. It scared me senseless when I thought of Haldan's plans for me, and hearing it discussed out loud made chills chase each other up and down my spine. Was he being dramatic, just to get Elladan to help him with my surgery, or did he truly believe all he was saying?

No one spoke for several minutes, yet I could hear vague footsteps, as if someone paced the length of the veranda below me.

"You think about it, Elladan," Haldan said acidly after several minutes had gone by. "And I hope you make the right decision!" I heard the door slam as he left. At least I assumed it was Haldan leaving.

It was very quiet for a good while. Had I not known there were people down there, I would have thought they all might have left, but the timing of the door opening and closing was such, that only one person could have gone through it.

"Why are you staring at me again, Grandfather?" Elladan suddenly asked, startling me out of the gloomy reverie into which I'd fallen.

I heard a chair scrape across the stone of the veranda, then another, as the two apparently sat down at the table. Each terrace in Imladris had table and chairs for outside dining.

"I have been preoccupied this entire day, wondering how an Elf and a Human could conceive a child without first choosing a conception date," Celeborn said. "I—"

"—you know the story that Maeren invented is untrue," Elladan said, interrupting his grandfather. "I am not that baby's father."

"You truly believe her to be lying?" Celeborn asked.

"What else am I to believe? Perhaps she does not remember being with another? She is either lying, or her mind has become strained for some reason—trauma, _lunacy_—I know not which. Since she is not a good liar, then I am leaning toward the last thing."

I smiled. He'd rather think me insane than lying to him. At least that was a plus on his side—that he'd finally remembered how very bad I was at trying to convince anyone of anything untrue.

"I find her mental state completely whole," Celeborn said, with what sounded like levity in his voice. "And I've been spending quite a bit of time with her, so I would know if she were lying to me. I believe her claim to be true."

I heard one of the chairs suddenly scrape against the stone again, as if someone abruptly stood. "But Grandfather, you know how impossible this is!"

I heard a second chair scrape back, as Celeborn apparently got to his feet as well.

"Do not discount an event as impossible simply because it has not been heard of or thought feasible in the past. Who believed that such small beings as Hobbits could vanquish Sauron, yet that turned out to indeed be a possible thing, against all odds. So do not take shelter from your responsibility in such a flimsy excuse, as 'it is not possible'.

"Surely in your life before now you have witnessed something you thought unbelievable. I know I have had many such opportunities. When your own father and his brother were afforded the choice of race, many thought that an impossibility, including me at one point. But you, being fruit of your father, know that the choice was given to them. Your Uncle Elros became Human and has long since passed from the reaches of this world. So following this logic, you more than most, should be of open mind when faced with what seems impossible."

"I suppose you do have a point, Grandfather," Elladan admitted quietly, after a long pause. "My mind slammed shut when I came to the conclusion that Maeren was not with child by me, and she, therefore, had been untrue. That realization hurt so badly, I thought to lose _my_ mind for a while."

There was another long pause.

"Grandfather, you're doing it again."

"Oh, so sorry—I do not mean to stare. As I said before, I've been wondering how this came to be, and I've been gazing at you, trying to discern if there is anything different about you."

"Why?" Elladan asked in a puzzled tone. "Why would I be different?"

"I was merely trying to decide whether you might have made the choice of race you have to make. I wondered if you appeared any different than before. I know when Arwen chose Humanity, there were no obvious physical signs on her, save for the warming of her skin—her complaints of the cold every now and then.* The baby Maeren is having could be an obvious sign of your choice. Were you Human, this child would not be a shocking surprise. But then, were you Human, you would not have rejected the child, since you would have known it could be the result of a choice you had made."

"I have to say," Elladan started, "that I had given that idea brief thought. I have not chosen such, that is for certain, but there have been times I was so tempted for a life with Maeren as to long for being Human. I wondered if perhaps I'd desired it too strongly.

"But I am still undecided, especially now that Maeren and I are estranged. I have had discussions with Arwen about how it felt, what she knew about the change in her, and her answers have convinced me I've not changed at all. I am still of Elfkind. Therefore, I believe completely that Maeren has been untrue to me. I do not think she is having a child of mine. We were apart more than we were together. She would not consent to move herself and Leofa to Gondor. She would not bond with me—I must have asked her more than a dozen times. There must have been another, and she was finally caught in her web of lies."

"You are a harsh judge, grandson of mine, especially since you are not entirely innocent in your dealings with your woman."

"What do you mean, Grandfather?" he asked with anger creeping into his voice. "I was nothing but honest with her, and she repaid me by being false."

"You flaunt Elven custom by taking pleasures of the flesh without benefit of a marriage bond—"

Celeborn clearly had more to say, but Elladan's exasperated exhale could be heard even by me, aloft as I was above this conversation. Celeborn went on in spite of his grandson's rudeness.

"—_yet_ you must think you would be beyond censure of the Valar, simply because They seldom act outright against such foolishness. As you can see, and as _I _believe, _you_ have been caught in a web of your own making, and They might have seen fit to confront you for your disobedience."

When Elladan spoke this time, after listening to all his Grandfather had to say, his tone was cheeky—almost chiding. "Do you truly believe this could be the case? The child is a result of my misdeeds and is somehow a reprimand by the Valar?"

"I said so, didn't I? Need I repeat myself?"

There was silence, so Celeborn continued.

"Or it could be your _in_actions that have caused events to unfold in the way that they have. Your reluctance to act on the choice you and your siblings have been given has me wondering: Perhaps these tragedies you find yourself in have fallen into this disarray because of your lack of a decision."

"I was never aware there was any sort of time limit applied to this Peredhil choice I have yet to make." Again Elladan's tone was just short of insolent.

Celeborn must not have felt his grandson's comment worthy of reply, because he went on with what he'd been saying.

"Your father often despaired that, of any of his children, it would be you who would turn from your Elven heritage. Always you were more reckless and less thoughtful than Elrohir; a sign Elrond interpreted as your Mannishness coming to the fore. And after you matured, your pursuit of fleshly pastimes ever convinced him he'd been right about you."

"Grandfather, I had willing Ellith pursuing fleshly matters right along with me."

"Well, yes that is true, Elladan. But persuasion has always been one of your strengths."

There was a profound silence as I—as well as Celeborn—waited for Elladan to answer in some way. An answer never came.

"Your father never dreamed, at least when his children were small, that Arwen would turn from being Elfkind before either of his sons. Yet he was gifted—or cursed, if you see it that way—with foresight, and he saw soon enough the choice of his daughter. I do not know if he will ever completely recover from his loss of her, but that is the lot of a parent and not the fault of the child. Each have their lives to lead, and sometimes those lives must be lived separately. I tell you this not to influence any decision you might make, but to ensure that guilt does not play a significant role when you do choose."

The two Elves were silent again, and I sincerely thought about moving myself inside. But I knew my ankle, and how weak it was, and that, along with my girth and muscles wasting from lack of use, would have me on the ground before I finished my short journey to my bed. I was stuck out here, listening to things I should not be hearing, until someone came to my rescue. _Where was Haldan, anyway?_

"The Valar might be tired of your wavering," Celeborn finally said emphatically, as if there had been no lull in the conversation. "One may sit on a fence for untold time, but sooner or later, one must come down on one side of it or the other. You have a choice to make, and you've not made it for whatever reason. And no, there is no time limit for making this decision, but for years you have been carrying on in this fashion, not advancing in your life; standing still, committing to no one and nothing."

"But Grandfather," Elladan said, this time almost pleadingly, "I have all but begged Maeren to bond with me. It was she who was holding me from making this choice."

"Surely even you do not believe that, much less expect me to. Even if she would not bond with you, you could have chosen to live without her, or chosen whichever life you want to choose, and then inform her after the choice was made."

"I was afraid, Grandfather," Elladan said quietly. "Maeren is so vehement about my not becoming Human."

"Do you truly believe she would have left you of her own accord, had you announced you'd made that choice without her knowledge? After all, it is your choice to make, not hers. You give her too much leverage in this. You should look to your sister as to how a decision of this magnitude is made. Arwen read her own heart and saw that Estel was the only love for her lifetime. She chose him and Humanity. Why could you not do the same—simply choose, whichever choice that may be?"

"You know not Maeren's stubbornness, I do not believe. I had no way of knowing if she would still have me, had I made such a choice behind her back."

"Well as it stands now, it hardly matters, does it?" Celeborn asked. "You have managed to alienate her, if not completely, then very nearly so. As she speaks now, I have doubt as to whether she would have you back at all."

The door to my room suddenly opened and someone came in—it was too dark for me to see who it was by now. There were no lamps lit in my room—it had still been light out when Celeborn left me.

Haldan could see me apparently. "Maeren, what on earth are you doing out here still?" He didn't wait for my answer; he picked me up from where I lay and whisked me inside to my bed. He then lit the lamp. I wanted to laugh at the face he was making—he seemed distraught—as if I might have taken some ill from being outside in the dark.

But that was not what had him so concerned. "You heard, didn't you?"

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

*When I made this determination, I was remembering (I think) that Tolkien wrote his Elves as being less affected by cold as Humans, so that's where my idea came from of their difference in body temperature. So I am going with the idea that Arwen may have "warmed up" after her decision was made. If it isn't so, then consider this another A/U item in this story.


	11. Conversations and Compromises

_Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien._

"You heard, didn't you?" Haldan asked me.

I closed my eyes, dreading to even think about my baby's coming birth. When I overheard Haldan discussing it with Elladan and Celeborn on the veranda, he'd said that he would more than likely have to take the child with surgery—that it was our only chance. When he'd spoken with me about it before, he made it seem more like he would intervene in that way only if he had to.

I glanced up at Haldan as I spoke; "You do not plan to let me labor to give birth at all, do you?" I finally asked him.

He heaved a great sigh, looking at me as if he wished I'd quit asking him questions he did not want to answer. _He fears this coming birth almost as much as I do_.

"The women I have attended before—" Haldan stopped, and I could see the wheels in his brain turning as he thought it through. "The bleed—it is overwhelming, as if one of the great veins of the body has been opened." His forehead creased with the intensity of his thoughts. It was as if he were thinking out loud to himself, and not speaking to me at all.

But then his eyes focused and he looked directly at me.

"You've seen it yourself. You know how harmful it is. If that happens to you, I have precious little hope of keeping either of you alive. If I intervene before the bleed happens, I have a better chance of saving you both. I have been considering the idea of not allowing your labor to begin, and waiting until your term is almost complete—then taking the baby. What do you think of such a plan?"

I would have smiled, had the conversation not been so grave. _Haldan was consulting with me? A mere Human healer? He'd never ever done so before._

"Since I have never even dreamed of a surgical birth as an answer for a patient of mine," I answered carefully, "I almost cannot reply to that question with any true experience of any sort. The closest I have come to doing surgery on anyone has been when I've had to remove deeply embedded arrows or try and repair internal damage caused by a sword. I can tell you my rate of success has been low for either. So for me to give any kind of an opinion would be so much guesswork, Haldan."

He continued to look at me, almost pleadingly it seemed, for some type of acknowledgment that what he was thinking of doing was the right thing.

"I did watch Aundra bleed to death, and I was incapable of helping her at all," I said. "I think I would rather have you try your plan in a managed setting, than to have me deliver this child and leave you to deal with the crushing chaos that will ensue. We both know that the bleed will happen. I do trust you, Haldan. Whatever you decide will be the right thing, whether I live through it or not."

The look on Haldan's face showed me the gravity with which he held this situation. His expression was one of a person faced with a life and death decision that had no correct answer. And that is precisely what he was faced with. I could almost see his longing for Elrond's knowledge and skill. _If only he were still here…_

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Several days later, I was in my room reading a book of poetry; the same book I'd brought with me when I'd first come to Imladris to have Leofa. Beautiful verse flowed from its pages, and though I'd read it at least a hundred times, it still held wonder and nurturance for me. I could almost recite the poems word for word, but that mattered not all to me. I felt renewed when the songs on its pages washed through my heart.

It was raining today, so there would be no painting out on the veranda. I felt sorry for that. I loved my time with Celeborn. I had grown very close to him; something I never dreamed would have happened. He did not judge me. He seemed to have disregarded the fact that I'd broken Elven tradition by lying with his grandson without saying vows. I wondered at Elves—wondered if they were all like these few that I knew and loved.

There was a fire crackling warmly in the hearth. The coolness of autumn was now giving allusions to the foreboding chill of winter. I was sitting up in my bed, fully clothed, with a light quilt pulled up past my knees, my huge belly seeming as a giant egg in the nest of the cover. I had to sit up quite a bit in order to see over my baby-full abdomen at all. But since I was reading, it was actually very handy to prop the book upon.

I heard the faint clearing of a throat, so I glanced up and was momentarily startled. Not ten feet from me Elladan stood. He was beautiful and Elven as always, and at my first glance of him, I felt those old familiar stirrings. But I saw them for what they were—carnal desire, that's all. My heart felt like a stone—inert, lifeless and cold.

Yet to my surprise, my anger was gone. I felt indifferent. I cared not if he stayed or went. I knew that all he'd have to do would be to open his mouth and let any hateful words out at me, and I'd be angry with him again. But as of this moment, I felt nothing. Nothing at all.

"May I come in?" he asked quietly.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

He approached almost cautiously. When he gazed at me, I was not sure what I saw in his eyes. A certain unhappiness, though he did not appear particularly sad. Wariness, I was sure; he more than likely thought I might throw my book at him. That wouldn't be without the realm of reason, as angry as I was at him the last time I'd seen him in Edoras. _Did I see hope in his blue-gray eyes? I couldn't be sure._

"How are you?" he asked me. I wondered if the next topic of conversation might be the weather. I hoped not.

"I am well," I said.

Today I wore a dress that was a pale shade of pink, a hue that brought out what little color I had in my cheeks. I could not look well, since I'd been confined to my bed for five months by now. I felt weak and out of sorts, as my abdomen had swollen to an unbelievable size, and I could not move about on my own. And I still had one more entire month of this to endure. Twelve months was assuredly too long to keep a baby inside, even for one of Elven persuasion. For the Human woman, it was downright obscene.

He stepped closer, but stopped.

"Mae," he said, "I am sorry."

I wondered at what he was sorry about. For not believing me? For deserting me when I needed him? _Perhaps for ever giving me his heart at all?_

"I'm sorry, too," I heard myself say.

So here we were, looking at each other like two tongue-tied strangers for a few moments. I didn't feel the need to start some arbitrary conversation with him to fill the silence. _He'd_ _come to see me, after all_. I had no idea what exactly he wanted to discuss. My health, apparently, but we had dealt with that quickly. And he'd said he was sorry, but I knew not for what. Could be for any number of transgressions he'd committed against me, I imagine. I wondered what subject he would bring up next.

It had been at least two weeks since I'd overheard him speaking to Celeborn on the veranda below my room. That evening his grandfather had admonished him for breaking Elven tradition repeatedly with his pursuit of 'fleshly matters', as he called what Elladan and I had been doing. Celeborn seemed to think that we had been surprised by a child because of Elladan's not committing to me or making a choice about his race. But through all the conversations I'd eavesdropped on that evening, I had not heard my lover ever admit that he believed he might be the sire of my baby.

He walked slowly toward me, and he finally sat in the chair beside my bed.

"So, what are you sorry about?" I asked him, my tone lighter than I might have liked. I'd decided if he wasn't going to speak, I could not sit here like a stump and wait for him to begin. He knew that sort of thing made me crazy.

"I am sorry for not trusting you," he said. "I have no right to ask your forgiveness. I doubted you about what should have been a very simple thing."

"Does that mean you distrust me no longer?" I asked doubtfully. "What changed your mind?"

"My grandfather changed my mind," he admitted. "Haldan asked me to come to Imladris with all haste, though I knew not why. I thought I might kill two birds, as they say, and also gain counsel from my grandfather while I was here. If any Elf left in Middle-earth would know about what you and I have been facing, it would be him." He gazed at his hands, which were joined across his lap as his elbows rested on the armrests of the chair. Then he looked at me again. "I spoke with him. He is very wise, and he helped me to see all is not always black and white. I apparently needed to be reminded that life is colored in shades of gray."

We were silent for several minutes. I knew not what to say to him. His apology was not falling on deaf ears with me, but it didn't seem to matter anymore. It was as if he didn't matter anymore. That made me so sad I thought I might weep.

Although he said he was sorry for not trusting me, he had not answered my question as to whether or not he now trusted me enough to believe me. I had dealt with Elves enough over the past fifteen years to know that they could very easily lapse into talking in riddles whenever it pleased them.

"So, what are _you_ sorry for?" he finally asked me.

I frowned, thinking for a minute. "I am sorry for getting so angry at you, when I told you about the baby, and you didn't believe me. I thought the reason I was carrying a baby at all was because you had somehow deceived me, and I ordered you out of my house. I never wanted to see you again after all the terrible things you said to me."

Elladan had the grace to wince as he was forced to recall our heated discussion.

"But after I cooled a bit, I realized, by your demeanor and your words, that you had not purposely tried to mislead me. I am sorry for overreacting. It was unfair."

He looked at me from the corners of his eyes.

"That is all you are sorry about?" he asked.

"No, actually, it isn't all," I said. He was testing my temper now. I could imagine his next question, and if it was what I thought he would ask, I would not take it well. But I pushed my anger away for the moment and answered him.

"I am ashamed for demanding you not choose in a particular way," I said. "—Whether to stay an Elf or become Human. It is your decision, not mine. I knew I would feel responsible, if you chose Humanity, so to assuage my guilt, I wanted to demand that you not choose in such a way. But that is not fair to you, so I apologize for ever making such a demand."

He raised his eyebrows, apparently surprised by this particular thing I was apologizing for. He gave me that sideways look again. "Anything else you might want to say?"

_Here it was—I knew that was what he would ask next._

"What else is there, Elladan?" I asked, not disguising the annoyance in my voice. "—if you no longer doubt me?" Had I been able, I would have risen from my bed and begun pacing. He'd done it, as I feared he would do. He'd made me angry again.

"If you believe that this child is yours, then what else do I have to be sorry about?" I shouted. "I cannot tell you I regret having been untrue, because I was not untrue. I cannot tell you that you had every right to turn your back on me and walk away from your child and me because I had been with someone else, because I had not. So what other would I say in apology to you?"

How I regretted my immobility. I wanted to pace and rant at this stubborn Elf beside me.

Haldan interrupted us as he came into the room without even a knock on the door. He was at my side in an instant and berating Elladan just as quickly.

"If you are going to upset my patient, you must leave at once."

"Haldan," Elladan said irritably, "we were having a private discussion."

"I'm well aware of that, _Elf Boy_," he sneered. "But it was turning into a shouting match, and I cannot allow that." Haldan pulled at the chair in which Elladan sat, until Elladan got the idea that Haldan wanted it and got up. Haldan then pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat. He took my wrist in his fingers, checking my pulse, and then placed his ear on my abdomen, concentrating intently. As usual, he was facing me, and as he listened, he winked at me.

I smiled. Haldan almost always had that effect on me.

When he was finished with his brief examination, he walked to Elladan and stood directly in front of him.

"I am not in the habit of listening at doors, but that was unnecessary, since I could hear the shouting clear down the hall."

"I was not shouting," Elladan clarified.

"Regardless," Haldan said smartly, "I have a few sage words for you. You, my dear Elladan are the worst kind of fool."

"If I were you, Haldan, I'd not call words 'sage' if they were likely to get my teeth shoved down my throat."

"Be quiet and listen," Haldan said in return. "Were your father here he would have brought you to task months ago. I thought it not my place, but since you have continued to act as an ass, I have decided to take it upon myself to correct your errant behavior."

Elladan stepped closer to Haldan, which I'd not thought possible. They were almost nose-to-nose. I feared they might truly resort to fisticuffs in a moment. I'd not seen either of them this angry at each other before. _And look who was the cause—again._

"You could try," Elladan said menacingly.

Haldan's eyes flinched just slightly, but he did not back down. "You of the closed mind—open your eyes, you fool! Would you but use even half the brains the Valar have given you, you would notice that Maeren has long since passed the term a woman would normally carry a Human baby. She's into her eleventh month, you imbecile! Either you are the father of her child or some other Elf is! Had she taken a Mortal lover, she'd have delivered two months ago!"

Haldan did not wait for Elladan to answer; he stormed out the door, his mission obviously accomplished.

Elladan looked away, grimacing, then looked back at me.

"I wish Haldan would have stayed away just for a few minutes more!" he said passionately. His face was sad and it made me want to weep. "There are things we need to say to one another, but I am having difficulty putting my thoughts into words. Thus all my stupid questions…"

He sat back down in the chair. The defeat on his face made me want to reach out to him. But I still could not. His whole demeanor had changed. He was no longer the self-assured Elf, the brash son of Elrond I'd fallen in love with against my better judgment.

"The conversation I had with my grandfather opened my eyes," he said, after a few moments' pause. "And what Haldan said occurred to me only a few days ago. The realization had me so ashamed that I have avoided talking to you. But I knew that would solve nothing.

"I was closed to any possibilities, other than the wrong conclusion I drew. I've been full of my own self-righteousness—but I am truly humbled now.

"When I came in here today, it was with the intention of starting fresh with you, even though I went about it wrong. I've never been so short on words in my life; would that it weren't so. I just want to hear you say you are having a child of mine, so I can acknowledge it to you, as is proper between two people expecting a new life. That is all.

"I believe you, Mae." His seriousness was unmistakable. "I believed you before Haldan came in with his 'sage' revelation, I swear it.

"Tell me once more, Mae," he said, tears glistening in his eyes, "that this child is mine."

I could tell this was the defining moment of our whole ordeal. He was laying his soul bare to me and I, in turn, was expected to do so as well.

"This child is yours, Elladan," I said, my eyes connecting with his. "Yours and mine. It has always been and will always be a child of ours."

"Then it is ours," he answered with surety. "Ours. I love the sound of that, Mae."

I felt the ice of my heart melt just the slightest bit. He was being so very sincere. I could see there was no doubt in him any longer. He finally believed me. Yet I had no way of knowing if what he'd said about Haldan's words was true or not. He'd never lied to me before. I just had to trust.

He bent to kiss me, but I turned my face away. As much as I might have wanted to grant him my complete forgiveness—and I truly did want it—his apologies were not completely thawing my heart.

He had needed some other proof than just my word that he was going to be a father. He'd not had faith in me; he should have known me well enough to recognize I'd not lie to him. Instead, he'd needed his grandfather's admonishments, along with his own realization that I'd been with child too long to be having anything other than an Elven baby. My faith in him had been shaken to the core; it would be long before that would be steady again.

He leaned back, his expression guarded.

"I do not blame you for not trusting me now," he said. "I will have to earn your trust back. And I will, before all is done."

I looked at the quilt covering me, and pulled at a loose thread. _It held tight, thanks be_. I had no right to destroy what was obviously the hard work of someone else, even if the conversation I was about to broach left me trembling in fear and fidgeting with anything I could get my fingers on. What I had on my mind to discuss with Elladan next was very hard, and I barely knew where to start.

"All may be done _sooner_ rather than later," I said. "I more than likely will not live through this birth." I was surprised that my voice held strong. I felt weak and jittery whenever I thought of this impending event, so I thought my tone might reflect such.

"Do not say that!" Elladan demanded.

"I must say the truth," I replied. "Hiding from this will do no one any good. And I have something important to ask of you."

"Anything, Mae," Elladan said quietly.

"Even though Aragorn is his father, I would have you look after Leofa if I am no longer around to do so. You know, I have often wished you would have been his father."

Elladan got up from the chair and sat on the edge of my bed. He then embraced me, his head on my shoulder, his face cradled next to my neck, his breath warm against my throat.

"I have wished the same thing, Mae," he said. "Many times. I love him as if he were my own. Worry not, I will see after him, whatever happens."

He sat up then and I saw that a tear had escaped one of his eyes. I wiped at it with my fingers.

He gazed at the mound that was my belly. Then he glanced up at me, asking silent permission to touch me. I nodded. He placed his hand on my swollen abdomen, which was undulating with the movements of the child within. The look of wonder on his face was precious to behold. He leaned forward and kissed where his hand had been. I felt another slight softening of the rock hard ice that surrounded my heart.

"Haldan is sure he can deliver this child safely, and I believe him," Elladan said, his voice full of hope. He looked at me with all his immeasurable charm and added, "He's trained my grandfather, which is something I could not believe until Grandfather told me himself. Who knew that the great Lord Celeborn held any curative skills at all? But I suppose with a will as strong as Haldan's, I would not be surprised if he could train a horse in the healing arts!" Elladan's smile was warm, and he meant it to comfort me, but it did not, and he could see that. "With me and Elrohir and even my grandfather pouring our healing strength into you, Haldan cannot fail."

"Do you know this as fact, Elladan? Do not lie to me to spare my feelings. There is much I must do to prepare if I will not live. I have written letters to those I will leave behind—to my brothers, to Aragorn and Arwen. I have yet to write to—Leofa." My voice choked on my son's name. Of all those I would leave with my death, my greatest regret would be the loss of my son.

Elladan took one of my cold hands into his slightly warmer one.

"Have faith, Mae," he said solemnly. "I will not let you go. I will hold onto you with my entire being—so will Elrohir and my grandfather. We will not let you slip through our fingers."

I didn't notice the tears rolling down my face. I was too busy praying that Elladan was right, and that my baby would be born safe and well, and we could try and repair what had gone badly awry in our lives.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

It was now three weeks until the date Haldan had chosen as the probable day my child would be born. I knew—at least I heavily suspected—that he had no Elven magic wand to pinpoint the exact day of conception, so I thought he must have been guessing as to when the child would make its appearance. But he had examined me thoroughly, so many times, taking measurements that only he could find any advantage of. I'd never thought to measure a baby quite so closely when I'd attended women with child myself. But this is Haldan I am speaking of, here, so I imagine he will probably be right on the mark with his date.

I'd been moved into his suite of rooms, in order that he might watch me more closely. He said he wanted me to inform him immediately of any sign of the impending birth. For this reason, he had someone with me around the clock, even as I slept at night.

And it was indeed like clockwork. Haldan himself kept track of me during the morning hours, as he had been doing before. Celeborn was given afternoon duty, during which he still painted and I still posed, if the approaching winter did allow. But Elladan took the evening and overnight hours. I was not thrilled when this particular rotation was decided.

And I complained of Elladan's presence in my room as I slept. I did not precisely know why I was behaving in this way. I wanted to keep him at arm's length at all times. I was working at forgiveness of him, but I'd not reached that yet. I was wary of him, afraid he would show me again he was not trustworthy. On the other hand, of course, if I truly wished to be reconciled with him, I knew I must spend some time alone with him.

I asked Haldan why I could not just stay alone at night, with the door open so that if I called he would hear me without question. His answer was that he needed to be completely rested when the event of the birth unfolded, and such an arrangement would still have him listening for me with half an ear. He was not taking any chances that he would not be in prime condition, when it came time for this birth. No chances at all.

This evening Elladan and I were reading in my room—me in my bed propped up, and he in the chair beside me. Well, I was reading, but it became apparent that Elladan had not been using his time thusly.

"What do you think of the name "Rilien" should the baby be born male?" he asked me.

"It is a nice name," I said, still trying to read, "but I believe you may be overstepping your bounds, Elladan." I glanced up briefly to see what he thought of my pronouncement.

He scowled at me. "What do you mean? Are you still so angry at me that I will have no say in my child's name?"

"It has nothing to do with anger, Elladan," I said in an offhand manner, by now trying to read again. I'd not even glanced up from my book as I spoke. "Surely you remember that naming the child is a Rohirric mother's right?"*

There was complete silence, so I again looked at the Elf beside me. I could tell he was apprehensive. I decided to have some fun tonight—at his expense of course.

Several weeks ago, I enlisted Celeborn's help in choosing just the right name for either a boy or girl Elf—an Elleth or Ellon, as I had come to know the terms.

He gave me several names—both masculine and feminine—along with their meanings in Elvish. I'd already decided the name for either my son or daughter.

"How about 'Groin' for a son and—" I began.

"That's a Dwarvish na—" Elladan said with obvious temper, interrupting me, but then not even finishing his thought. He fixed me with a penetrating stare, which gradually worked its way into a knowing smile. "That's not even a _Dwarvish _name. You have no intention of telling me the names you have decided upon."

"That is exactly right, sir," I told him. "It is a mother's right to name her children, and she does not do so until after they enter the world. So you will not be hearing from me the names I have chosen."

"Not even a hint?" he asked. "All I truly want to know is if they are Rohirric names or Elven ones."

"No, not even a hint!"

I did not tell Elladan that I'd left the names with Haldan, just in case I did not live through the birth. My baby would not be nameless. It is dire indeed, for a Rohirric child to go unnamed by his mother. It is said that ill fortune follows him all the days of his life, and while I did not usually hold with superstition, I would take no chances—no child of mine would ever meet that fate.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

The very next day found me listless and weary. Weary from what, one might ask? I was tired of doing nothing but lying abed for days on end. The weather had been foul—misty rain and chill wind kept me from the veranda, so I'd not seen Celeborn for the last two days. He usually came to sit with me regardless of whether he painted or not, but had stayed away these last afternoons. Elladan had been here instead. I decided, if Elladan again showed his face early today, to ask him if this was of his doing. If it was, I wanted it stopped. I missed my visits with Celeborn. And how would he finish his painting if I did not pose and he did not paint? We were fast running out of time to accomplish this portrait of a woman with child.

And that led me to know what had me in such a mood. I feared the coming birth more and more, as it approached with what seemed lightning speed. I had by now finished all my letters to those I loved—even to my son—my Leofa.

In my letter to him, I told Leofa how much I loved him and had always loved him. And that if things went wrong with this birth, that I would love him from beyond, wherever that might be. I told him that I hoped his father had explained to him the story of how he and I had met and under what circumstances. And I hoped that Leofa could find it in his heart to forgive me for not doing the right thing every time I should have done it. I said that he was to do as his father and Elladan told him to do, for they would never steer him wrong, and they loved him with all their hearts. I added that he was to never forget that he had uncles in Rohan who loved him as well. His Uncle Haedren especially.

Haldan had just left me and had taken away my untouched tray on which he had brought my midday meal. I wasn't hungry. What did I do but lay abed? I expended no energy—only that which it took me to breathe. In what way could I work up any appetite?

As I sat here miserable this afternoon, my mind drifted back to Leofa. I thought about my son and how Aragorn and I had spent only one night together. I still had fond memories of that night, but I also had horrid ones of it as well.

Aragorn had happened upon me as I sat completely devastated after the death of one young soldier—so young he would have been Tristin's age, had Tristin lived. I had been completely bereft—I felt as if grief were gnawing a hole in my heart, as a rat might gnaw through a wall to find a warm place to make his vile nest.

Tristin. It had been long weeks since I had even thought of my firstborn son. There were times I missed him with tangible pain, and then times like now when he'd not even crossed my mind for weeks at a time. I wondered at the sort of man he would be. Tall and blond as Dustin had been?

Dustin. I had been very successful in placing my love for my dear husband into a far corner of my heart. How I longed for my Dustin right now. He would know what to say to make me feel a little less hopeless about this birth. He always knew what to tell me, and in just the right way. I knew it was possible that the passage of time had made my remembrance of him saintly, but in my heart, I knew that was not so. He was no saint, truth be known. Some of the tales I could tell of the man—well, let us just say they are best left untold. No, he wasn't a saint, but he knew me. He knew what I needed and when to give it to me.

And I had come to think of Elladan in that same way. Elladan was to Dustin as night is to day, in most ways. But he knew me as no one else alive did.

I examined my heart—truly and deeply—and realized that my love for Elladan was not dead. I had been lying to myself when I thought I no longer cared or needed him in my life, as I'd told Celeborn on the veranda a few weeks ago. The love I had for Elladan was still there, a small flame burning faintly, but beginning to grow stronger the longer it stayed lit. _Perhaps I should voice my fears to Elladan?_ _I had not done so as of yet. He was a very good listener—most of the time. _

Elladan had a way of speaking to me that made me feel I was his equal. I remembered Dustin, and while he listened and took my opinion into account, he had made all of the decisions of our household. I wondered if such would be the case if Elladan and I ever did wed. _Would he hold rank, and make the decisions about everything that confronted us, whether I objected or not?_

The question is prompted by the fact that Elladan had asked me to bond with him again, night before last. I'd not answered. I told him he would have to wait; I needed more time to think.

It had been late. I'd been asleep, but woke from a nightmare. Elladan was sitting on my bed, holding my hand, calling my name.

I was disoriented at first, still frightened from the horrible images that continued to swim before my mind's eye. I had ceased dreaming of the fall down the mountainside a few months ago. This nightmare had taken me back to the wards in Minas Tirith, after the Great Battle upon the Pelennor. I'd not had this dream in over a year, and I wished I'd not had it now.

The crushing burden of so many wounded and dying had been heavy upon my shoulders in this nightmare, just as real as it had been at the time. The noise—the screams and moans—as well as the blood and gore surrounded me and covered me until I felt as if I were drowning in it. The dying were clutching at my hands, pulling on my apron, trying to get me to stay by their sides as they breathed their last. Their bloody handprints were smeared down my arms, along with bright swaths of red down the front of my dress. It was a sweet relief to wake up to the handsome visage of Elladan. I sat up in my bed and held on to him, as if I would never let him go.

There was barely any light in my room; Elladan had obviously lit the lamp and kept the wick low, for just enough light that I would see I was awake and not still held in the clutches of the nightmare world.

The dream had been so vivid, that I pulled away quickly, fearing I would get him fouled by the bloody mess all over me. But as I glanced down and saw I was clean, I embraced him again. He held me tightly, just as I needed him to.

He asked me if I wanted to talk about the dream. Whenever I'd wake up in a state such as this, and he was with me, he always asked if I needed his ear, and sometimes I would speak of the horror, but sometimes not. He never pressed me, either way.

And as he held me, his arms tightened around me. "I never want to let you go again, Mae," he said earnestly. "I want us to be together always. Would you not bond with me? If not for the sake of my love for you, then to keep us together for our child that is coming? Please don't ask me to live separately from him—or her."

I truly had not thought about this. How ridiculous that I had blanked that out of my mind altogether! I know Leofa suffered from the fact that his parents were not a unit, but separate. He never acted on that suffering until just before he left for Gondor this last time, when the few words he had for me were usually harsh and resentful. I did not want to put another child through such anguish.

So now I sat here contemplating my life and how I would lead it. With or without Elladan? I again thought fleetingly of Dustin; but Dustin was gone and Elladan was here, if I chose to allow him back more fully into my heart.

I truly do not know what to do. I am afraid. But that should not enter into this decision as much as what would be best for the children. Dare I say 'our children'? Leofa was almost as much Elladan's as Aragorn's—he was just not of Elladan's blood.

But I could not marry Elladan now. Perhaps as time went on, I would be able, but not right now. He had betrayed me as truly as he had accused me falsely. He'd not taken my word that the baby was his. He had needed proof. How was I to forgive that? I hoped I had the answer soon.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Where is Elrohir?" I asked Elladan two evenings later. "I've not seen him for weeks."

"He was in Gondor," was his reply. "But he planned to leave for here just a few days after I did. He will be back in plenty of time for the birth, have no fear."

"Why is he there?" I asked. "Any particular reason? It seems a bit odd that he'd go visiting when he just has to turn around and come back quickly." I put down the book I'd been reading.

"He went because our sister is there. He misses them when we are away, as do I. We truly love being part of such a large and lively family. I wish—as I've told you on numerous occasions—that you would consider a move back to Gondor. It would truly make my life complete."

"Well what about _my_ life, Elladan?" I asked him. I had not meant for my tone to be quite so biting. "My life is in Edoras. That large family you are talking about? I have four brothers and their wives and children that _I _would miss, if I moved myself to Gondor. What about that?"

"What about that?" he asked me sarcastically. "I think that is not what holds you in Edoras. I think you fear anyone in Minas Tirith discovering that you are Leofa's mother."

He had me there. That had been my reason all along for not going back to Gondor. Was it still? Did I want to remain in Edoras just because Haedren and my other brothers were there, along with their families? I would miss them, were I to leave Rohan, but I was not averse to travel should I be in Gondor and grow homesick for them.

I realized that this experience I'd been living through this past year must have changed me in some profound way. I did not fear moving back to Gondor anymore. That was not something to be feared. Life and death matters—those were to be feared, I now knew.

"All right," I said, probably somewhat haughtily. "It scares me no longer, but I am still not sure I would move to Gondor just to make _your_ life complete."

He looked at me with a piercing gaze. I could see in his eyes that he was up for a fight.

"Are you ever going to forgive me, Maeren?" Elladan asked me.

I was a bit startled by his abrupt change of subjects, but I recovered quickly.

"Perhaps if I had _proof_ that you truly regret not believing me, I might think to forgive you completely."

"So that's what this is about?" he asked quietly. "You resent the fact that I needed proof and could not just take your word about the baby? You do realize that what you asked me to believe was an impossibility, do you not?" His condescending tone was getting my back up.

I didn't answer—I turned my face away. _He simply did not grasp how much he had hurt me._

Elladan sat beside me on the bed. He placed his fingers on my chin in an attempt to get me to look at him. I gave token resistance, and his hand dropped away. But in just seconds I looked at him of my own accord.

"I have told you I am sorry," he said, his tone irritating me even more. "From the depths of my soul I regret not believing you. And words cannot be unsaid—if only they could be. What must I do to gain your forgiveness?"

He sounded defensive, as if it were he that was attacked and not me the victim at all. It was as if he did not understand the depths to which his distrust had wounded me.

"Time," I finally said, not willing to fight with him about this right now. I felt ill-prepared. I'd not thought about what I might say to him, should this topic arise again. "I just need more time."

"We might not have any time!" he said loudly, as he got up and paced a short distance away.

But then he turned and looked at me again. "I am sorry, Mae, for speaking in such a way," he said weakly. "I truly believe you will live through this birth, but what if you do not? Will this be between us for all eternity?" His eyes were bright with unshed tears, and his voice was such that I could not ignore this plea.

I thought about what he'd said for a few minutes, as he stood there looking at me. Is this how I would end my relationship with him, whether I lived or died? Did I truly want it ended?

_No, I did not._

Was I merely being stubborn again? _Perhaps._

But no, I knew I was not reacting like this just because I wanted my own way. I decided to tell him my heart, even though it was not a speech I'd rehearsed beforehand, as I would have wanted it to be.

"Elladan, you hurt me like no one else ever has. I was crushed by the things you said to me in Edoras. I thought I might not ever be able to forgive you completely, but perhaps if you listen now, as you did not listen then, you might make some progress in opening my heart to you again."

"Go on," Elladan said, without moving an inch.

"You have said that you love me over and over again," I added. "If that is so, how could you have doubted my word so completely?"

"You never said that _you_ loved _me_, Mae," he said directly. "I told myself that you did, but I had no _proof_ of that either. I did not think you would tell me anything false, but then I never dreamed to be in the situation we found ourselves in."

There it was—my stubbornness had caused at least some of this heartache. I thought back to my conversation with Celeborn, when he thought this child I carried might be work of the Valar. Perhaps my hard-headedness needed taming. _Maybe They did have reason to intervene in my small little life._

"Elladan, I need for you to believe me. Even if I were to say the sun will rise in the west tomorrow, I must have your trust, if for no other reason than who I am and what I mean to you. I want to know absolutely that you trust me—really trust me—to always give you my best. And my best would never be to lie to you for any reason.

"I am trying to let this go. I _want_ to let it go. But you seem so flippant about it, as if I am being a petulant child, holding onto to grudges because it gets me attention. That is not what I am doing. I want—no, I _need_ for you to understand that I cannot live through something such as this again. Not for any reason—no matter how large or small _you_ may think the matter might be."

Elladan is a very proud Elf. He hates being wrong or chastised in any way. I half expected him to turn and leave the room, not giving in at all. He'd told me he was sorry, and to him that was enough. It just wasn't enough for me. Not yet.

But to my great surprise, he walked back toward me. He sat on the bed beside me and looked at me intently for several moments.

Quietly, with as much sincerity as I have ever heard from him, he said, "Mae, I am more sorry for not believing you than I have ever been sorry for another thing in my life. I should have believed you because I love you, if for no other reason. You have my word, that were you to say the sun sets in the east, I will believe you—just because of who you are and how much I love you. I will need no other reason. You have my solemn promise."

I'd never heard such a heartfelt apology in my entire life, and I appreciated it more than he would ever know. Slowly and deliberately, I put my arms around and him and drew him to me.

Then he kissed me as if it would be the last kiss we might ever share. I felt my heart fill once again with all the love I'd ever had for him.

He drew back after a few moments and looked at me again. _He was such a beautiful Elf._

"I love you, Mae," he said. He still had tears in his eyes. I knew he was speaking from a place so deep in his heart that I might never know such depths.

He loved me and I loved him. And all the problems I had allowed to nag at me all these years, concerning relationships between Elves and Humans, fell away. They would still be there tomorrow and next week and ten years from now. But we would deal with them as they arose. I would no longer shut my heart in anticipation of what could go wrong. I would open it to what was right.

"I love you, too, Elladan."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

A/N: Thanks to Sadie for the good advice she gave me in writing this chapter. And again, any Rohirric folk lore in this story is of my making.

A/N: In glancing through my "Complete Guide to Middle-earth", I've come across a Dwarvish name that I thought I'd just made up-Groin! It seems he was the father of Oin and Gloin! So when Elladan says that it isn't even a Dwarvish name, he's making a mistake, which he'd not do, so I'm confessing that it was me who made the mistake!


	12. Surprises and More Surprises

_Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien._

It was now the week of the birth. Haldan had examined and ciphered and measured until he thought he had the most likely date when the baby should be born. He had then made a date with me—along with a scalpel—to see the task done.

It was raining and chill outside again and my mood reflected such. I wore my emotions on my sleeve. I could bounce from pure bliss to the deepest depression in a matter of seconds over the most minor of things. Only this morning I'd been brought to tears over the fact that I had not wanted an egg for breakfast—I'd only wanted juice and toast. Silly I know, but completely out of my control. I almost wished the people around me would leave me completely alone—I hated telling them I was sorry over and over again.

For their part, they seemed to take my abuse with a grain of salt. Poor Elladan. I truly felt sorry for what I was putting him though. Only once did Haldan answer me sharply, but he immediately apologized. And of course I could not take any slight from his words. He was under more strain than I was, if that were possible. I would not be in Haldan's shoes for any amount of treasure that could be amassed.

Finally, just after noon I was again alone. Celeborn had not made his appearance yet, so I lay down with my eyes closed, relieved to not have to act happy, or apologize to anyone for cutting words I may utter. I was truly relaxing for the first time all day.

I was almost asleep, almost to the point where I would be unaware of anything, when I realized that someone had come into the room. I dragged myself back toward consciousness, thinking it was Celeborn at last. I was so tired, it was with regret that I opened my eyes. The shock that greeted me almost made me faint!

"Hello, Mother." It was Leofa! _My Leofa…_

As the moment drew out, I noticed that Elrohir and Aragorn were with him.

I struggled to sit up—I'd been lying on my side. The weight of the baby did not allow me to breathe, should I try and lie upon my back for any length of time. Elrohir helped me by placing pillows behind me so that I might rest against the headboard of the bed.

I hugged my son to me, probably driving the air right from his lungs. Since he was wet from just coming in from the rain, he protested, not wanting to dampen my bed or me. I cared not, I just hugged him tighter. Then I greeted Elrohir and Aragorn.

"What are you doing here?" I breathlessly asked, as I allowed Leofa to straighten up. "When did you arrive?" I looked my son over from head to toe, making sure he was well and whole.

"We got here just a few minutes ago," Elrohir said, but Leofa took over the answer then. "I wanted to see you straight away, so we came here to your room first."

My son's voice had changed. While it was not as deep as it would be with time, his voice no longer had the higher-pitched tone of a young boy. He had celebrated his fourteenth birthday just this past week.

"I am so glad that you did!" I said in return. I patted the bed beside me so that he might sit. He started not to, since his clothes were damp, but I insisted.

"Estel and I are going to get into some dry clothes," Elrohir said then. "We will return in a little while."

After they had gone, I asked Leofa, "How is your training going? I know you were very excited about joining Eldarion before you left Edoras."

"It is going well," Leofa said halfheartedly, I thought. "But that is not what I want to speak to you about right now. I've had something on my mind for some time, and I have been impatient to talk it over with you."

I felt hope that my old relationship with Leofa might be returning. It had been long since he had wanted to talk to me at all, much less tell me anything of importance to him. I dreaded what he might want to discuss, but I slowly nodded my head that he should continue.

"My father has explained something to me, and I hope you will talk to me about it as well," he said, and I cringed inside. I'd hoped to not have this conversation yet, especially with me and my moods changing from moment to moment.

"Yes?" I asked, prompting him. I supposed the sooner he said his piece the sooner it would be behind me.

"Before we get into that, though, I want to say that I hope this baby of Elladan's makes it into the world without mishap. And in the process, nothing had better happen to you. I love you, Mother. I need you here. Do not leave me, please." I suddenly glimpsed the small boy I'd once cuddled at night after he'd had a bad dream; but the older and wiser Leofa did not allow that child to remain unhidden for long.

And I could see he was well informed. It was obvious I was with child, but only Elrohir could have told him that the baby's sire was Elladan. And I suppose Leofa's concern for me came from his remembering his Aunt Aundra, and knowing that childbirth did not always end happily.

"I will not leave you, Leofa," I said earnestly. "Not if I have anything to say about it. I have too much to live for, son—especially you!" I hugged him again. "I cannot believe you are here! It delights me as nothing else has or even could."

He smiled at me, and I could see the beginnings of manhood in him. The sword work had broadened his shoulders, corded his neck. He was definitely no longer a little boy.

"I know not where to start," Leofa said as he stood, "so I'll just do as you taught me and start where I might." He'd grown taller as well, I could see.

His face reddened as he said, "My father told me about how the two of you met and how I came to be."

Again I only nodded. I could think of nothing to say, and it was obvious he still had much to tell me on the subject. I wanted to ease any embarrassment he felt, and I knew that keeping my words to a minimum would work best to that end.

"He told me about the night he'd walked to a tiny garden in Minas Tirith, where he'd gone in the past to think and pray. He said he was sad—grief-stricken was his word—because he'd lost friends on the Pelennor that very day. And he was also afraid—he actually said he was scared unto death—because he would lead the entire army a few days later to the Black Gates of Sauron's stronghold.

"But he found you instead of solitude in the little garden, and he said he felt as if the Valar must have sent you to him. He thinks he'd not have had the strength he needed to complete his bleak tasks had you not been there with him that night to lend him some of your spirit. And he said that his life would have never been complete, had I not been conceived on the night that he spent with you in the little garden."

I wanted to weep with the words Aragorn had said to our son. What a brilliant way of telling a child that you were glad they'd been born to you—that they hadn't been a mistake at all.

Leofa stopped for a moment, gazing down at his hands, and then he looked at me again, in a curious sort of way. I again felt wary of what he might say next.

"My father also told me why you were there that night; about how you were Warden in the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith. I was surprised when he told me that. Why did you never tell me about it, Mother?"

I shrugged, unable to speak of a sudden. I was so near to tears, any movement I might make would cause them to spill.

Leofa shrugged too, and then continued, "My father said you had a boy die in your arms that night. A boy who had been in the Great Battle as well, and that he was no older than I am now.

Again I nodded, wiping away a tear that I'd been unable to hold back. This was a memory that tortured me still. _No child should ever be a soldier in any war!_

"He said that boy reminded you of Tristin and how you'd lost him and his father. So you were drowning in sorrow, just as my father was. And the two of you could do nothing but hold onto one another for dear life."

I smiled at how Aragorn had spoken of our tryst. It was all completely true, and a very sweet way of saying what we did—something that was actually the wrong thing to do, if a Mother raises her son correctly.

"All of that is true, Leofa," I said. "It is no excuse, though. We were wrong to be together that way without first being married."

"And yet, here you are with child again, and you aren't married now either," Leofa said in a puzzled sort of tone.

I covered my face with my hands; I could not look at him. I was completely ashamed.

"No, Mother," he said quickly, grasping my arm gently, "you misunderstand me. I am not condemning you! You had a reason before—when you got with me. I know you are sure to have one now."

I marveled for a moment at my son's newfound maturity. I looked at him again, now ready to face whatever he might think of me.

"The reason—" I began.

But Leofa stopped me. "Elrohir told me it was no more my business than his. It is what Elladan was talking about when he told me in Edoras before we left that this was between the two of you, and if you felt like telling me, you would. I accepted that then and I accept it now. Although why he has been so angry, I do not know. But I've been thinking about it, so I'm sure to figure it out eventually. I thought perhaps it might have been because you would not marry him, but _that_ does not make sense…" His voice trailed off, and since I did not fill in the blank, he continued.

"I need not have everything explained to me, you know." He gave me a look, as if something else had just occurred to him.

"And speaking of Elladan, I certainly hope the two of you have worked out your differences. He has been miserable for quite a long while. I love him, too, Mother, and I hate to see him so unhappy. I would hope the two of you could work some things through, so that maybe you might—well—maybe, perhaps—marry him? I know he would like that, since you are having the baby and all...I know I would like it as well."

"You speak as if you know that I love him, Leofa," I said tentatively. "I didn't love your father, why would I necessarily love Elladan?"

"Mother," Leofa said, with just the lightest sarcasm as he gently rolled his eyes, "I've known about the two of you for quite some time. Elladan thought he was being so _very_ cautious." Leofa all but scoffed at this memory he was about to tell me. "When a boy has too much water before bedtime, he sometimes needs a trip outside in the wee hours of the morn. When I would stay at Uncle Haedren's sometimes, I saw Elladan as he entered our house—on more than one occasion."

So much for being discreet. I should have known…

"But it was Elrohir that told you I was having a baby, and that Elladan was its father?" I asked.

"Oh no," Leofa said, "When I asked why Elladan was so unhappy all the time, Elrohir told me that I should only tend to business that was my own. It was Elladan who told me about the baby, and how it was his and all, just before he left Gondor this last time."

I was shocked. Elladan did not think the child was his, when he'd told Leofa this. Had he been prepared to take on a child he believed was sired by someone else? If so, why?

"So how did Elladan come to tell you about the baby?" I asked carefully, not really sure I wanted the truth.

"Well, I did a wrong thing—but I was tired of him being all mopey and gruff," Leofa said, in his own defense. "I confronted him—attacked him really. And in the process, I told him I knew about the two of you. I was just being mean, I suppose. I felt bad afterward." I could see the regret in my son's eyes. "But that's when he told me about the baby."

So it was true. Elladan had been ready to claim this child, just so Leofa would not think badly of me. He truly loved Leofa to want to spare him in such a deep way. _And it also proved his great love of me…_

"To get to the point of all this," Leofa said as if he were tired of all the explanations, "I want to apologize to you. I had decided the worst about you, and I was completely wrong. Can you forgive me, Mother?" I was completely overwhelmed by the honesty in my son's expression.

I held my arms out to him, and he came to me and allowed me to hold him again, for just a few moments. I wondered at what else Aragorn had told Leofa—for our son to be so wholly forgiving, after he'd seen that Elladan and I were consorting without being married. Aragorn must have sung my praises brightly, for this young man before me to have completely absolved me, after I'd obviously done the same wrong thing not once, but twice. The esteem in which Leofa held Elladan certainly did not harm my case any either.

"Of course all is forgiven, Leofa," I said, "although there is truly nothing to forgive. I was at fault as well."

"No, Mother—" he started to say.

I placed my fingers upon his lips. "Yes, Leofa. I should have been honest with you the moment you were old enough to understand. I was neglectful of that, to save my own feelings, I suppose."

"None of it matters anymore," he said, with a serious expression on his face. "There are other things—more important things—to occupy time than something as trivial as that."

"You find it trivial now?" I asked, a little surprised.

For just a moment Leofa looked uncomfortable—almost guilty—but he quickly recovered.

"It is when you are training to the sword!" he declared, as his eyes lit. "I love the sword, Mother. And I am good at it! Finally, I found something I excel at."

"Oh Leofa," I said, frowning, putting aside my concern for the moment. "You've always been good at what you've done. Your Uncle Haedren sings your praises."

"Well mucking out stalls and handing Uncle Haedren tools as he worked are not such stellar accomplishments. They were fine for a young boy, but I'm much older now."

I smiled. My son was truly growing up.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Lord Celeborn made his appearance for the afternoon, just as Leofa and I had run out of words. He brought with him his canvas, so I thought he would paint me again. But no, he'd finished it completely and had brought it with him to show to me.

With Leofa sitting beside me, Celeborn turned the canvas so that we could see. The painting was wondrously beautiful, even with me as the subject. I was awed by the Elf lord's talent—the 'Lady with Child' was truly a stunning work of art. I thanked Celeborn for making me lovelier than I was in real life, but he simply laughed.

"Now I wonder what to do with it," he said. "I thought to make it a present to you, Maeren, but perhaps, since things seem to be good again between my grandson and you, we might present it to him as a gift?"

That is when I got the idea that it was time for Elladan and me to wed. The baby's birth was just two days away. I loved him with all my heart, and I had no doubt that he felt the same way about me. Leofa had told me his opinion on the matter earlier. Although I could think of several reasons why we should never have become involved in the first place, none of them were good enough to deny us being together any longer. We had no reason to wait.

I turned to Leofa and said, "What do you think, son? Should we marry Elladan, since he's asked so many times?"

Leofa's eyes grew wide. "He's asked you before and you've refused him? I cannot believe I was right! No wonder he's been such a bear for so long!"

Celeborn and I laughed at that. "He's asked before—many times. Remind me someday and I will tell you why I refused him. My reasons seemed important at the time, but they no longer are."

"Then I say 'yes' and let's be quick about it!" Leofa said merrily.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Elladan and I were wed—or bonded—whichever way your ears might curve—that same evening. It was all very sudden—as well as short and sweet. Everyone was there with us—Celeborn, Lirenneal, Elrohir, Leofa, Haldan and Aragorn. Celeborn stood with us, since neither Elrond nor Celebrian were still in Middle-earth to stand by their son. It was beautiful and everyone wept, although none of those males would admit to such a thing.

Elrond and Celebrian had given both of the twins not only rings for betrothal, but also for their marriages. I had none to give Elladan, so I would not accept one from him until I could have his made. We did not exchange rings at all during our vows. I agreed that we could have the metal smith here in Imladris make a wedding ring for Elladan that would match the one he had for me as soon as possible.

So we said our vows—without rings, unfortunately—and we considered ourselves married. Elladan said, with a laugh, that he hoped the bonding would hold, since the rings were nearly the most important part. He would not tell me the most vital thing for an Elven marriage to become valid, but I imagined that it was the same as that for Humans—the consummation. Since I was already with child, I whispered to my new husband that I knew our vows would stick. We'd already accomplished the most important aspect of the marriage.

Of course the vows were said with me abed. How I wanted to be on my feet, but Haldan would not hear of it. I nearly begged him, I wanted it so badly. And I rarely beg anyone for anything. So I was wed in one of my everyday dresses in my bed, with my soon-to-be-born child heavy within me. Elladan stood to my right and Leofa to my left as the two of us acknowledged our love of one another.

After all the formalities were over, the Elves had arranged a party! I was overwhelmed with joy. My heart was full—and a party, too? I could not believe my good fortune this night.

At one point, Aragorn approached and we discussed Leofa and the changes in him. Elladan and Elrohir were regaling Leofa with an embarrassing tale about Estel, when he was Leofa's age, so there was no danger of Leofa overhearing what his parents might be discussing. I told Aragorn how very much I appreciated his taking a hand in setting our son upon a straighter path.

"I could never have handled the situation as gracefully as you did," I admitted. "From what Leofa said, you told him gently, and I appreciate the care you took with his feelings for me. He could have continued to scorn me, but you prevented that with the way in which you explained it all to him. And the fact that you showed him with words, exactly how much you love him, meant the world to me. He came away from the conversation with you a much happier person than he had been before. Thank you, Aragorn."

"One of my fears has always been that our son might think he was the result of some sort of mistake or error. And I was right—that was partially what he was thinking. I also told him that if you were at fault—and to be despised for what happened between the two of us—then so was I to blame. He wasn't thinking that should be the case, but I convinced him it was so." The stern look on Aragorn's face made me wonder at just how 'convincing' Aragorn had had to be.

"Also, the training he has been doing with the tower guard has been excellent for him. He has gained much confidence, along with better tolerance of others. I think having the other boys' influence swayed his thinking some."

"Father!" Leofa said as he bounded toward my bed. "Is what the twins are saying true?"

And Aragorn, scowling, turned away, asking the twins just what they had been telling his son.

Before I wanted it all to end, I began to yawn. I stifled the first three, and I did not think anyone noticed. But the fourth and fifth, I could not contain, and Celeborn finally told everyone it was time to leave the happy couple alone.

So one by one, they wished us well and left. Aragorn, Leofa and Haldan were all that remained.

Leofa came to me and kissed me on the cheek. "I know you and Elladan will truly be happy now. And I for one am very glad. It is no fun being around a lovesick, angry Elf at all!" Aragorn laughed and put his arm around our son's shoulders and led him out the door.

Haldan continued to bustle about the room, doing what I did not know. The Elves from the kitchen had cleared the party away before they left, so there truly was nothing for my favorite healer to be doing. When he straightened the bottles of herbal supplements he kept on my bedside table for perhaps the fifth time, Elladan cleared his throat.

Haldan looked at his _Elf Boy_ with one eyebrow raised.

"Elladan—" Haldan started. But then his expression turned to one of _'what am I thinking?'_ as he rolled his eyes to the ceiling, and he turned to plead his case with me instead.

"Maeren," Haldan said in a no-nonsense tone, "I know you will be under pressure to perhaps do _things_ that are not in your best interest—_or _the best interest of the unborn—"

"Haldan," I interrupted him, "I promise you, nothing untoward will be occurring in this room tonight. You have my word. Worry not about it."

"It isn't you I'm worried about," Haldan said with a pointed glance at my husband. Then he clarified, "Well, it _is_ you I'm worried about but—"

"Haldan, go heal something," Elladan finally said. "You seem to be babbling and your services are not needed here anymore this night."

Haldan glared at Elladan, but I sent him off with my assurances that he need not worry about it any longer.

Elladan then left for several minutes—I knew not why. And when the door opened again, I was surprised to see Lirenneal, with a gown of some sort draped over one arm. Lirenneal helped me every morning and evening, to get dressed and then undressed. I could not do it myself without aid. All I truly needed was assurance that someone was close by. I could stand, but my weak ankle made me awkward and unsteady, and the fear I might fall was great. So she would stand beside me and help me keep my balance as I stepped into or out of garments.

But I was taken aback by her presence tonight. I thought that Elladan would help me dress. I think my expression was such that it had Lirenneal believing she needed to explain.

"Elladan knew you were not starting your marriage in a conventional way, so he thought to preserve a little tradition and have an attendant prepare you for your new husband."

I smiled and blushed, I suppose, since my face grew hot. Imagine. Here I was so heavy with child it looked as if it could be born momentarily, and I was a new bride! I was embarrassed. I suppose some things do not get easier, no matter how many times you might do them.

She helped me off with the gown I was wearing and picked up the filmy nightdress that she'd brought with her. It was exquisite! The palest of greens and delicate to the point of being almost shear! _There I went, blushing again._

"Lirenneal, where on earth did you get such a thing—and one that would be fitting me?"

"It was mine, that I wore for my husband on our first night together," she said. "Elladan asked me this afternoon, after the wedding was announced, if I thought I might have time to accomplish this for you. I simply added a panel of fabric down the back. Really nothing, and I was very happy to do it."

As soon as I had the gown over my head and spread down my body, I hugged Lirenneal.

"Thank you, dear friend," I said. "How can I ever repay you?"

Lirenneal placed her hand against my protruding belly and said, "Simply have this child and let all be well. That will be repayment enough."

Lirenneal left, after seeing me back into my bed, and Elladan returned. We were finally alone, and what did my new husband do, but start removing his clothes. _All his clothes._

"Ell-a-dan," I said in a sing-song voice. "I gave Haldan my word."

"Well I did not give him _my _word," he declared, with a grin that stopped just short of lustful.

He climbed into my bed—our bed, I suppose I should say—and snuggled up to my back, spoon like. One of our favorite positions for sleeping. I was just getting comfortable, when he suddenly began tugging on the beautiful nightdress, inching it up my torso and over my head.

"Elladan," I said in protest as he tossed the beautiful garment onto the floor, "Lirenneal worked so hard on that. And besides, I promised Haldan. You know exactly what he is concerned about—bringing on my labor. We cannot take the chance—even if we could accomplish the deed, with me as big as a whale!"

"You think I cannot accomplish it?" he asked me. Now his grin was truly lusty.

_Oh wonderful! I had not meant to give him a challenge!_

"Elladan—" I whined.

"I am only jesting with you, Mae," he finally said as he turned down the wick on the lamp. He snuggled closer to me again. "I need to feel your skin against mine. I have missed our closeness. Very much," he said, as he kissed my neck.

"Elladan—" I whined again. He obviously did not know just how alluring he could be—even when he wasn't necessarily trying to be so.

"Shhh, Mae," he said. "Go to sleep. You are exhausted. Savor the feel of my skin next to yours, and be happy, as I am, that it can always be this way."

And I was—very happy.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I slept for awhile, but I awoke perhaps an hour later. This had been happening to me with regularity lately. A combination of the baby's continual movements and my trepidation over its coming birth had kept me awake many a night in the past month.

Elladan's hand lay gently upon my abdomen. I knew the skin covering my belly—with the child beneath it—rolled and rippled with the baby's movements, so I could imagine Elladan's hand rising and falling with the action from within.

My mind pitched and swayed through all the possible things that could—and probably would—go wrong with the birth of my child. I was beginning to feel stark terror whenever I thought about it at all. The fear. The pain. The blood. The panic of those not used to such sights. Haldan had assured me that not only would I be dosed heavily with poppy and valerian, I would also be cast into a deep, healing sleep, and the Elves there for the purpose of keeping me in such a state would not let me wake during the surgery.

"Mae," Elladan said, "what are you doing not sleeping?" Even though his voice had been quiet, it startled me with its suddenness.

"I think the answer to that would be, I would be being awake, Elladan."

He chuckled softly, and I could feel him shake his head slightly, as if he'd given up on trying to decipher that strange sentence.

"Let me rephrase my question, then," he said. I could hear the smile in his tone. "What is bothering you, that you cannot sleep?"

"The baby moves so much and with such vigor that it makes me restless and wakeful."

"That is a good reason for being awake," he said, "but I think not the true one."

After a long pause, I finally said, "I am afraid, Elladan."

"Tell me about it, Mae," he said quietly. "Perhaps lending voice to your cares might help to banish them from your wakeful mind."

"I don't want to die." _There, I'd said it aloud._

"You will not die."

"And you know this how?"

"Because I just know it."

"That's not a good enough reason, Elladan."

There was a slight pause before he answered. "Because your death would kill me, and I'm not ready to die either, Mae."

"I suppose that is a good enough reason, then, if you put it that way."

Elladan's voice was quiet and his tone most calming. Almost as if he were half asleep, if Elves ever truly slept.

"I will hold onto your _f__ë__a_ with every fiber of my own. And Elrohir will hold fast to mine; and Grandfather will hold even tighter to both my brother's and mine together."

"Well who is going to keep me from feeling pain if you all are holding onto—_f__ë__as_? Is that right? And by that I am supposing you mean spirits or souls?"

Elladan chuckled lowly, despite the grimness of our conversation. He was lying so close to me, I could feel his breath as it ruffled my hair.

"That is mostly right. I'll be concentrating on both things. Keeping your pain tolerable and holding onto your soul, as you say, since I am the closest one to you. I love you with my entire soul—_f__ë__a_. With everything that is inside me, Mae." He ran his fingers along my cheek. "Have no fear, my beautiful wife. You will be in my hands, and you are not going anywhere. I swear to you, I won't let you go."

I didn't say anything for a few moments, but then my curiosity got the better of me.

"When I saw Aragorn and Leofa this afternoon, I was surprised—no, shocked is the better word—that they had come. So I asked Haldan why they are here, and he told me that Aragorn had come to give him aid during the birth. Has Aragorn ever done anything of this sort—as a healer, I mean?"

"Not that I am aware of," Elladan said, his words slower and his tone quieter still. "But he spent much of the afternoon with Haldan learning all that he might. If ever a woman should feel secure in her healers, you certainly should."

There was a long silence before I spoke again, heedless of whether Elladan might have slipped back to walk on his dream paths.

"Haldan completely ignored my question as to why Leofa was here, but I know it is because, in his heart, Haldan is afraid he is wrong—and I won't live through this birth."

"I will not lie to you, as you know the truth," Elladan said after a quick intake of breath—for once it was me who had startled him, I think. "Elrohir told me that Haldan knows—as you do—that there is the slightest possibility that you might not come through this, and he would not have Leofa be unable to say whatever he might need to tell you in the event something untoward might happen."

"Leofa was told of the danger I am in?" I asked, rising up on my elbows, alarmed.

_That would explain his total forgiveness of me, when before he had been so very angry. Of course he would term his anger trivial, if he were faced with the death of his mother._

Elladan quickly pulled me back down and into his arms. "He isn't a child anymore, Mae. He deserves to know the truth. Elrohir spoke to Aragorn long and had his support before he related the news to Leofa. Had you had warning before your mother's death, would you not have hated anyone who kept you from saying what you might say to her before she was gone forever?" I settled more easily into my husband's arms.

He shifted slightly in the bed, his hand coming to rest once more on my abdomen.

"Now sleep," he said, again with that dream-like quality in his voice. "Send your cares scattering, as leaves fly before an autumn wind. Think not of this anymore, until the dawn lights your world. Then all can be explained more fully, and you will truly see there is nothing to fear."

I felt my eyelids droop, as if he had some magic that willed them to shut at his command. I found all thoughts of fear and trepidation gone, and only calm contentment left in its place.

It was…so…peaceful…

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

"Elladan, wake up."

"What is wrong, Maeren?" he asked. I think my sleeplessness might truly be frustrating him now; he usually reserved my full name for times such as this.

"Please go fetch Haldan," I told him, as calmly as I could. "Tell him my water has broken. He will know what I mean."

"I know what you mean," Elladan said, "because it's gotten me wet too, unless…"

"No, it was not a matter best settled with a chamber pot, Elladan," I said, but despite my growing apprehension, I did not grouse at him.

I had been sleeping more peacefully than I had in weeks, when of a sudden, well before dawn, I felt the fluid surrounding the baby gush out of my body. Drat! And if my previous bouts with motherhood ran true to form, my contractions would start any minute.

Elladan lit the lamp and found his leggings, which he quickly slid into. I waved my hand out to him, and said, "My nightdress, Elladan. Hand it to me, please."

"There's no point, Mae," he said dryly. "You will have to be undressed for the birth."

"But I do not want Haldan to think—"

"It matters not what he thinks. You must go to the bath before you go to the surgery; just stay right where you are, exactly as you are. I will return momentarily with the good healer."

I shook my head. _He always thought he knew best. _So he left me—naked—with only the wet covers of the bed on me. And I began to shake, not only with cold from all the dampness around me, but also with dread of the coming surgery. The only good thing about this whole ordeal would be the baby at the end—if I was alive to enjoy it. If the baby lived through its own birth. I began to tremble even more.

Haldan came in just minutes after Elladan left. He bustled up to me and started to pull back the covers to check the baby—its movements and heart rate. But he noticed instantly my bare shoulders, I assume, and realized that I was unclothed. The expression on his face enraged me.

He looked at me as if I had not the sense to come in from outside were it raining.

"I told you Maeren," he said, through almost clenched teeth. "I would have preferred that we not do this on an urgent basis, but instead when all was calm and planned. I see my words to you last night fell on deaf ears."

"Get off your high horse, sir!" I retorted. "Nothing went on in this bed last night except sleeping, unless a woman being held by her husband—for perhaps the last time—is against healer's orders?"

I could tell by the softening around Haldan's mouth that he must have felt contrite, but he said nothing. He simply took the nightdress that Elladan had scooped off the floor and was holding out to him, and helped me put it over my head. I then threaded my arms though the sleeves.

When I had myself somewhat decent again, Haldan gently pulled the covers down off my body and bent to examine the baby. The gooseflesh pimpled up and down my arms and legs, from the anxiety I was beginning to feel, as well as the cold of the room. The fire in the hearth had died down, with only embers mutely glowing—it no longer gave off much heat.

Haldan felt around on my abdomen for several moments, then held his hands in one place for a little longer. He finally straightened and looked at me again.

"Well, the birth is imminent. The baby is head down, just as we would want it and you've begun contracting. I won't bother with further examination right now. You will tell me if bleeding commences?"

I assured him that I would.

"All right then," he said. "Elladan, take her to the bath please. We'll start as soon as you are finished there."

He walked away without another word.

I called after him, but he did not stop. There was so much I wanted to say to him, but he had gone. I wanted to thank him for all his care of me and for being my friend for all these years. I did not know if I would get the chance to thank him again.

It would be time for the surgery soon.

_Eru help me…_

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**


	13. Births and Beginnings

_Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien._

"Lean back on me, Mae."

Elladan and I were in the bath in the Healing Halls. It was a special bath, fed by a hot spring. There was plenty of room for two, as it was about four feet square and probably three feet deep, with shiny blue tiles set in all the surfaces. There was a step all around the perimeter of it for sitting in the mineral-rich water, should you have need of its healing qualities. And Haldan felt I had the need, apparently, because he had instructed Elladan, prior to entering my room a little while ago, that he was to bring me here and let me soak for at least twenty minutes.

And Elladan would not hear of me bathing alone—not at all—so he'd quickly divested himself of his clothes and had climbed in with me. I assured him that once I'd sat down, I would be fine in the water without aid. Although reluctant to bathe with him at first, since it seemed a great deal improper, I admit it was a good thing he would not give in to my prudish fears. He set about massaging my lower back, where the contractions were concentrating themselves right now, and it felt exquisite to have him working the muscles there.

My labor was not progressed by any means, the contractions coming only at ten to fifteen minute intervals. Few and far between they might have been, yet they were intense when they hit.

So he now had me leaning back into him and it all felt so good—the warm, fragrant water; the pillow of Elladan's body beneath mine, and his hands massaging wherever they would. He worked on my shoulders and neck, kneading up and down my arms, even my hands, down to my fingertips. I might have even been able to sleep, if I could have relaxed more fully. He talked to me in a soothing voice as he worked his magic on the tenseness in my body.

"Mae," he said quietly, almost whispering in my ear, "I do not think you know exactly how much I love you. You do not know the depth of my heart. And you giving me this child? It is a dream I have longed for. Just think—the baby was not offered in a way that I could accept at first, so I almost lost the opportunity I was given. I thank_ Ilúvatar _for granting this to us, as well as for opening my eyes before I could foolishly cast it aside. I regret all the difficulties you have had in giving us this gift." His voice had taken on a certain note of tension, as if fear might have been just below the surface of his words. "I would take on this anguish and pain for you, if it could be granted to me."

I turned my face so that I could kiss the side of his mouth. He smiled and changed our positions slightly so that he could kiss me more fully.

"I love you, Elladan. How I've wanted to tell you that so many times. I was very foolish, but I hope that you know it was not a selfish foolishness. I worried for you…"

"Shhh," he said again. "Relax. Imagine you have no bones and let your body drift on mine in the water."

So I did, and I fell asleep.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I woke as Elladan lifted me from the bath. I marveled at how he could so fluidly heave my heft from his sitting position to a standing one without so much as a grunt of effort. He sat me down in a chair that had been lined with soft, fluffy towels and bundled me up so that I might stay warm. He got dressed as I dried.

He used another of the towels to dry my feet and legs, since I could not reach them. He helped me to stand, and then he wrapped me completely in a warm blanket. He kissed me again, and then lifted me into his arms. We were on our way to the surgery.

Everything seemed unreal; as if this were happening to someone else and not me at all. It had been years since I'd been in this area of the Healing Halls. Since I arrived in Rivendell a few months ago, I'd only been in my room and Haldan's rooms, so this part of the halls had an air of newness to me.

Soon—too soon—we arrived in the room prepared for the surgery. Haldan was there, conferring with Aragorn quietly in a far corner. Elrohir and Celeborn were also there, speaking softly to each other as they sat in chairs by the hearth in another distant part of the room. Other Elves were there, as well. I'd seen them all before and knew them by name: Landion and Beleg brought towels, and then prepared a cradle for the baby. Tuarwen brought trays for my meals or pitchers of water in the past, but this early morning she was placing instruments Haldan would use on a tray.

Elladan gently laid me on my side upon the table in the center of the space. It had been padded with blankets, but it was a wooden table beneath. I supposed they would remove the linen as soon as I was asleep, and have me resting on the bare surface. It was what I would have done, had I been in charge.

But Elladan kept me completely covered, all the way up to my chin, and he had my toes carefully tucked into the blanket. Yet I still shivered, but not with cold.

I lay with my legs drawn up, as a baby might lie in the womb. How I wished to labor and give birth this time, as I had before, with all that pain and mess; but it was not to be. This birth would be with pain and anguish and perhaps even death. Of course death was an unfortunate outcome upon occasion with any birth, but with this one, it was almost a foregone assumption. I trembled more violently.

Elrohir and Celeborn came up beside me, and I thought that it must be time for the surgery to begin. But Celeborn laid his hand on my head and smiled at me, that smile I'd grown to love.

"Let your trembling cease, child," he said kindly. "You are in the best of hands with Haldan and Estel. Fear not." And my shaking grew quiet. I knew he was using some of his mysterious Elven power on me, but inwardly I thanked him for it.

"Elrohir—Celeborn," I said haltingly, "I know not how to thank you for helping me in this way."

They both smiled, and I could see traces of Elrond in Elrohir's face.

"Remember that debt I owe you," Elrohir said.

"That was no debt you truly owed, Elrohir," I corrected. "And if you still think so, then it was paid by your bringing me here to Rivendell."

"I paid you no debt in doing that!" he said. The force of his words gave me pause. "Were it not for my error on the way down into the valley, you might not be in this predicament now." He'd leaned down toward me, the fingers of one hand touching the scar near my right eye. "That made another debt I owe you, and I hope to repay it, too, this day."

"Were it not for the accident," I corrected him again, "then I most assuredly would have died in childbirth. Your error, as _you_ call it, is what alerted Haldan that I had something wrong in the first place. So I truly will be in _your _debt after this."

"Oh stop the bickering," Haldan said as he came up, but there was a smile upon his face. He held one of his hands away from me, as if he did not want me seeing what he might hold. He gave the others his 'look', and they parted, giving way to him, that he might speak to me in private if he should want to.

And he did.

"Maeren," he said, "forgive my harsh words of earlier. I have no excuse other than perhaps a nerve or two out of kilter."

I started to protest, but he gave _me_ his 'look' then. So I desisted. Instead I said, "Haldan, there is much I would say to you—"

But he shook his head and took one of my hands into his free one. "There's no need, Maeren. I would say all the same things to you. I love you. Remember that always."

He brought his hidden hand into sight, and in it was a clear, glass tube—very narrow—and it held something within. He kept one finger on one end of the tube; I assumed keeping the liquid inside as he wanted it.

"I have here a potent mixture of poppy and valerian. I will administer it to you in drops under your tongue. Better for quick absorption into the body. The drops will render you almost to sleep, then Elladan will take over from there. Are you ready, sweetheart?"

I nodded, unable to speak. If I had thought to utter anything, the chattering of my teeth would have rendered the words nonsensical. He placed the bitter drops into my mouth.

I looked at Elladan. This could be the final time I might see him in this world. I meant to memorize his face—I always wanted to remember it. I gripped his hand tightly.

"I love you, Elladan," I said, and was surprised to already hear my words slowly slur.

He squeezed my hand, and although he was trying to hide it, I could see the apprehension in his eyes—fear as I had, that we may never see each other after this one last moment.

But he said, "Fear not; I have you now. I will not let you loose from my grasp." He kissed me lightly on the forehead.

And I knew no more.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

So this is how it feels being dead.

I was floating as my soul drifted who knew where. The bleak feeling of being alone had me tense, and I could not relax. But as awareness bloomed, I realized that searing pain was flowing from the very center of my being.

Pain? I thought being dead meant an ending to pain. Too bad I am no longer among the living to share this information. People would be even more afraid of death if they knew how bad it truly felt.

You don't suppose those vague stories of a place of torture and fires—for the souls of the wicked—were true? I always thought them but tales, to get people to align themselves on the side of what was good and righteous. Now I was not so sure. But if I were in such a place, I had only myself to blame. My wicked ways were paying out, it seemed.

But as I continued floating and drifting, the throbbing burn only increased, and I became aware of voices around me. _So I was not alone…_

But these voices could not be in this place I was drifting, if I were dead—the people attached to them were still alive. I could hear Haldan and Aragorn, I knew. And was that Celeborn? Someone was weeping, though I could not tell who it was.

"Elladan," I heard Haldan exclaim, "center yourself! She is bleeding, yes, but all is not lost—she is depending on you—do not let her awaken now! Elrohir, take your brother in hand."

Elladan was here in this place, too? And he was weeping? My poor husband was mourning me, and my body could not yet even be cold.

Oh no! The baby! I had forgotten the reason for my death momentarily. I heard no baby's cries, and that thought made me want to weep right along with the father of my child. That must be why Elladan cried so now—he feels the loss only a parent can feel.

As his weeping grew quiet, I could feel a wave of well-being begin to swell through me. It began as a tingle, and then spread from the center of the white-hot pain. As the throbbing ebbed, my awareness darkened.

Oh, so now I was well and truly on my way to being completely dead. _At least the pain wasn't so unbearable now…_

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I hurt. All I knew was pain. It was the center, the very core of my being. All else was strangled with the mangling, never-ending pain. My heart was pounding, and my breath came in ragged gasps. Since I was breathing, I knew I had to be alive. I fought to wake up, but my eyelids felt as if some wicked fairy had used magic to seal them shut.

I heard moaning, but couldn't discern from whence it came. _Perhaps from me_?

In the distance I thought I heard a baby's cries, but I knew it for what it was—wishful thinking. My baby had not lived. If not for this relentless pain and my shallow breath, I would have thought I was dead, my eyes forever closed in the sleep of mortality.

But as the interminable minutes ticked ever on and on, I became more and more aware. Someone was sitting with me, running a cool, wet cloth over my brow. And small drips of water were placed on my tongue every few minutes.

"Haldan, she wakes." It was Aragorn speaking. _He was the person with the soothing cloth and refreshing water?_

I sensed another presence near, and then a cool hand rested upon my brow. All at once I was cold—the covers over me had been drawn down.

_Please cover me again…_

I wanted to slap at hands that were probing and prodding where the worst of the pain was originating from, but my arms, like my eyelids, felt paralyzed.

I felt someone—Aragorn I suppose—wipe at the tears that were running in rivers down the sides of my face, dripping into my ears.

Where was Elladan? Why was he not here with me? I needed to console him over the loss of our child—and I needed consolation as well._ Elladan, where are you?_

"She calls for him." It was Aragorn speaking again. _I must have said my husband's name aloud…_

"Well, there's nothing to be done for it," I heard Haldan say. "I've never seen an Elf more exhausted. I doubt he would rouse even if I were to shake him."

"Too true," Aragorn said again.

The covers were replaced over me, and Aragorn commenced with his cool cloth and water. It must have been Haldan who picked up my hand from atop the covers and pinched my fingertips lightly one by one.

"She's lost so much blood," Haldan then said. "Her fingers have a faint bluish cast. But we've done what we can; the rest is up to her."

There was silence for a few minutes, as Aragorn kept up his bathing of my face and throat.

"Thank _Ilúvatar__!_" I heard Haldan suddenly exclaim. "Here's Elrohir. With the rest that he's had, he will be able to ease her back more fully into sleep."

I felt someone open my mouth a little and drip bitter drops upon my tongue.

"There, that should help some," Haldan said.

I then felt another cool hand, this time on one of my arms, as it slid down to my wrist. And I could hear Elrohir say, in a calm, soothing voice, "Sleep, Maeren. Sleep. And when you next wake, you will feel much better again."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

My eyelids slowly parted. They were very heavy and the effort great, but at least they had moved when I willed them to. Yet I almost wished that they hadn't. The pain was still cruel, but not nearly as bad as before.

I was not alone; Elladan sat beside my bed, slumped in the chair asleep, with his eyes closed. His fingers were loosely intertwined with mine. I slowed pulled my hand from beneath his and he didn't move at all. That was just as well; I needed some time to get my bearings and to feel as if I were on solid ground again.

My tears started of their own accord as I thought of my lost child. It must be lost—I'd not heard any baby's cries since I had determined I was alive and not dead. I would have by now, had my child lived. How I had wanted to give this little life as a gift to Elladan. I did not even know if it had been a boy or a girl—an Ellon or an Elleth.

How I now regretted all the doubts I'd had. After I had finally accepted this change into my life, I would not now have the privilege of watching this baby grow from infant to toddler to child.

I wanted to turn and lie upon my side, but any sort of movement—even taking more than a shallow breath—made that relentless pain from the incision even more severe. I spied a glass and a pitcher of water on the table beside the bed. How I longed for a drink of cool, clear water. My mouth was as dry as parchment, and I would give much to have even a sip.

As if he sensed my wakefulness, Elladan opened his eyes. He looked horrible. His face was haggard and he had dark circles surrounding his beautiful eyes. I'd seen him in such a state once before—though not nearly this bad—back when I'd had the kidney stone so many years ago, and he had kept my pain at bay.

He did not move for a moment or two, he simply looked at me. Then, as if he'd been frozen and suddenly thawed, he sat up straight and leaned toward me, placing one hand on my arm and the other upon my head.

"What can I do for you Mae?" he asked in a very quiet voice.

"Water," I tried to say, although little sound emerged from my parched throat.

He helped me with a few sips of water. I was appalled at how very weak I was. As soon as I was settled and lying back in the bed, I began to cry in earnest again.

"I am sorry, Elladan," I said brokenly through my tears.

"Ah Mae," he said, his brow furrowed. "What has you so full of despair, that you would think to apologize to me for anything?" He was trying his best to comfort me. His voice was soft and tender, making me love him all the more—and feel like I'd failed him dreadfully.

He took a small cloth from the table beside the bed and began to gently wipe the tears from my face. I could feel the tremor in his touch. His care of me during the surgery had cost him dearly.

"The baby," I said, "I am sorry I could not deliver it to you unharmed."

He frowned at me. "What do you mean, Mae?"

"Must I say it aloud?" I asked, now sobbing.

"Hush now, Mae," he said, trying to calm me. He had leaned very close, with his elbows on the bed, one of his hands brushing the hair from my forehead over and over. "All is well. I think you must need more sleep."

"How can you say all is well, when our child has—not lived?" I wailed weakly.

A look of dawning bloomed over his face.

"No, Mae," he said quickly. "Our child is not—the baby is alive, Mae."

Was I dreaming? Did my husband just say the baby lived? I was afraid to allow the relief to spread over me, so I had to question him.

"Elladan, do not lie to me because you fear me on the brink of death. Tell me the truth. Is our child truly alive?"

He smiled at me, a joyous smile. "Yes, she is alive. Our daughter, Mae. We have a little daughter."

I began to cry again, but the tears were ones of joy this time. I wanted to jump up and dance a jig, but however willing my spirit may be, my body was unable to do anything but pull me back down into sleep.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I did not know the time or day that I woke next, only that my husband was sitting beside my bed reading something. I do not know how Elves did this, but he instantly became aware that I was awake. He still looked ill, unfortunately.

He helped me drink—I truly felt as if I could not take in enough water. As soon as I was settled again, I asked him, "Was I dreaming before? Please tell me I was not. Our daughter lives?"

The smile on Elladan's face told me before his words did, that I had been awake and aware when he'd declared to me that our child not only lived, but had been a daughter.

"You were not dreaming," he confirmed, and he bent down and kissed my lips softly.

I smiled and was again asleep.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

The next time I woke it was to Haldan bustling about me, opening the curtains to let in some light. My stomach growled as I smelled whatever it was he had brought on a tray that was now sitting on the other side of the bed.

"I'm sorry to wake you, dear," he said, "but you must take in some nourishment now and again."

He picked up the bowl of what could only be a most delicious-smelling soup, along with a napkin and spoon, and sat in the chair beside the bed. He began to spoon some up and feed it to me, wiping my lips every now and again.

"What is this, Haldan?" I asked, enchanted by the wonderful meal he was giving me.

"It is vegetable soup, all mashed up and heated, so that you might regain some strength."

"How is the baby?" I asked. I had not fed her. Yet I did not feel as if I had any milk in my breasts. "When was the last time she ate?"

"About two hours ago," he said.

"What is she getting?" I asked. "It is apparent she is getting nothing from me."

"Well, it is no wonder, Maeren," he said in a quiet tone. "You lost much blood. You are very weak. Give your body a chance to catch up. We've been feeding her goat's milk, and it is a slow go, but I am sure she is getting all she needs right now."

"Go get her, Haldan," I said with as much authority as my slowly slurred voice could muster. _I did not even sound like myself._ I pushed his hand with the spoon away. "If I let her suckle, my milk will come in, and she will be fed properly."

"But at what price, Maeren?" he asked. His face was as serious as I'd ever seen it. "Your body is craving fluids right now, and if you do this, your very tissues would steal from your blood to make milk. You have precious little blood to work with, lady. I cannot allow it."

My eyes teared up of their own accord. I tried to be strong and not weep, but I had no strength to spare right now.

"Will you go and get her anyway?" I asked, my voice choked. "I want to see her. I haven't yet, you know. I need to give her a name."

Haldan smiled at me, his beautiful smile with his crystal eyes sparkling, and he spooned another mouthful of soup into my mouth.

"You will be happy to know that I have not spilled the baby's name to the Elf Boy—he still does not know what to call her. It is driving him mad, as he suspects that I know." His smile was roguish as he lifted his eyes to the ceiling, before they came to rest on mine again. "I might have given hints that I knew her name. I am not above being a wee bit spiteful now and again."

I tried to smile, but I did not accomplish it.

As soon as I had eaten all that I could—Haldan pressed me to try and take in more, but I truly could not—he left to get the baby. I was excited to see my daughter. _My daughter_. I had never dreamt of such a thing, much less believed it would come to pass. And to think I'd not wanted a baby at all…

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I woke up some time later and Elladan was sitting beside my bed again. I scowled. Had Haldan brought the baby to me, only to find me asleep when he returned? Drat! When would I quit this continual sleeping?

"You are awake," Elladan said, stating the obvious.

"For how long, though?" I asked. "I seem to have no control over sleeping or not."

"You have been through much," he said. "It does not matter." The dark circles surrounding his eyes had faded some, though they were not entirely gone by any means. He still did not look healthy.

"It matters to me."

"You are the only one it matters to."

"Elladan, I think we are arguing. Must we?"

"No," he said, with the smallest of smiles. "We have nothing to argue about. Now, why do I not go get our little princess, and bring her to her mother? How does that sound?"

"Wonderful!" I said, with as much enthusiasm as my wearied voice could muster.

It seemed as if Elladan had absorbed the excitement I felt, but was too weak to express. His eyes lit with a special brilliance, and in his elation he said, "Stay right here." I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of his comment. He chuckled, looking as if he felt foolish, and then said, "I'll be back with her in a few minutes."

He bounded toward the door, lighter on his feet than I would have thought him capable of, since he was obviously still very tired, if his appearance were any indication. _There was something about an Elf running that awed me—grace personified. _

Just as he reached it, the door opened and Haldan appeared, almost slamming headlong into Elladan in the process. Haldan took a step back, but Elladan moved forward and, grabbing Haldan's arms, he did the most unexpected thing—he kissed Haldan right on the cheek! Elladan laughed again, and continued out the door, running to bring our daughter to me.

Haldan frowned his most haughty Elven frown, and then looked at me and smiled as he closed the door.

"I take it he is going to get the baby?" he asked.

"I cannot wait to see her," I said.

Haldan scowled at me. "You are still so weak," he said. "Your voice is barely audible. I must get some more soup and maybe some bread into you as soon as I might, so that you can begin to rebuild your strength." He fussed around me, straightening the covers over me more closely, and then offered the glass of water to me again, which I accepted gratefully.

"How is she Haldan?" I asked. I knew my voice was not as robust as it could have been, but Haldan "tsked" at me, as he heard me try to speak.

"She has ten fingers and ten toes and is the picture of health, thanks to you," he said, beaming all the while. He sat in the chair beside me.

"I wish Elladan would hurry," I said impatiently.

"It might take him some time," Haldan said, looking a little sheepish. "She needed changing and I was just coming in to get him to do the chore—practice, you know, makes perfect—when he nearly crashed into me at the door."

I smiled, but it was a half-hearted smile. I was so anxious to see my baby daughter that I almost could not contain my excitement. And who knew when I might fall asleep again?

"Maeren," Haldan said, and the seriousness in his tone caught my attention. "I did my best with your surgery, but…" his voice trailed off and his eyes filled. I thought he was going to weep for a minute, but he cleared his throat and continued. "It came very close to not being successful. I prayed the entire time, I can assure you, but had Estel not been there, you would not have lived. As it was, we could have used another pair of hands, but—" His voice faded again. He continued a few seconds later. "It is as close to losing you as I ever expect to come, lady—and do not expect me to pull you out of mortality's clutches ever again, because it will kill me surely to even try!" Haldan sounded irate, and I believe that he was, but not at me. He was angry at the circumstances that life had dealt him, and he was now thanking the Valar that all had gone reasonably well. He got up and walked quickly to the window, keeping his back to me.

"Haldan," I called as strongly as I could. "Please, come sit with me again."

He wiped at his face with his hands, then turned around with a strange expression on his features. But he did come back and he sat in the chair.

"Even after making a fool of myself, I still haven't told you what I must," he said, and he had such a look of regret on his face, I immediately wondered if everyone else was hale.

"Haldan," I said, "is Leofa all right?"

"Oh yes, dear," he said almost apologetically. "Do not be alarmed about your son. He is fine—and wanting to see you as soon as you are awake for longer periods of time. It is you, Maeren—it is you who quite possibly may hate me when I tell you what I must."

"Haldan," I said hoarsely, "I could never hate you. Just tell me what you want to say. All will be well, you will see."

But before Haldan could utter another word, the door opened suddenly and Elladan walked in, carrying a bundle wrapped in pink flannel. Even though his face was drawn, making his beautiful eyes seem sunken, those eyes sparkled with love. He looked down at the bundle he carried, then up at me, his happiness almost a physical thing.

"It is about time you met your new daughter," he said, and he smiled wondrously at me.

"Bring her to me," I said. "I wish I could have seen her before now. How long have I been sleeping?"

"Almost four days," was Elladan's reply.

Four days. It seemed like minutes, yet at the same time, it felt like weeks.

"I must sit up a little," I said, but I found I could not manage it on my own. My body did not seem to respond to the commands I would give it.

Haldan began propping me up on pillows. I regretted having to move, but I wanted my daughter in my arms—right this minute.

"You are going to pass out if we elevate you any higher," he finally said.

My husband put the baby into my arms, and I was appalled at how much it felt she weighed. I knew she could not be this heavy—it had to be my weakness. I was going to have to have help just to hold her.

Haldan placed pillows beneath the baby, until she was propped high enough so that I wasn't supporting her myself very much. But I still needed help. I could not hold onto her so that she would not slip. It seemed as if I could do nothing. I was as weak as this baby I was trying to hold in my arms.

With the help of Haldan and Elladan, I was finally able to hold her close, and I had my first good look at my daughter. She was beautiful! Her skin was warm and silky. She resembled a three-month-old Human infant, not scrawny and red as every newborn I'd ever seen. She was well filled out and of rosy complexion. Silky, black hair covered the crown of her head. She had tiny unmistakable Elven ears. And her eyes were the same shade of green as mine. She looked at me, watching the world and searching my face. I was in love and my heart was leaping great bounds!_ She lived! She had not died, as I thought before._

I looked up into Elladan's face, and while he looked extremely tired, the smile on his lips was joyous. He was sitting beside me on the bed, holding his daughter steady, so she would not slip from my grasp.

"Now will you tell me what you have named her?" he asked. "I grow tired of calling her 'Little One' and 'Tiny Elleth'."

"Her name is Antiel."

"Antiel—a gift—as she truly is," Elladan said as he stroked her cheek.

I had only been holding her for a mere few minutes, but I was growing so tired, I knew it was only a matter of time before I would be out again.

"Elladan," I slowly said, my eyelids drooping, "thank you for giving _me_ such a wonderful gift."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o **

**A/N: I found the Elvish names and translation at: http: / Arwenundomiel . com/elvishnames. html  
**


	14. Nightmares and Sweet Dreams

_Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien._

It was evening when I woke up again. Antiel was no longer with me. There was a fire crackling in the grate, and Haldan was sitting at my bedside. He had his eyes closed, but I did not know if he was truly sleeping or not. Before I could wonder about it overlong, he opened his eyes and raised his brows, as if asking some unspoken question. I ignored whatever he was trying to get at, because I had a question of my own to ask.

"Where is Antiel?" I decided to get right to the point of what I wanted to know. My voice had _not_ grown stronger while I'd slept. "Why can you not bring her in here to stay with me?"

Haldan had such a loving look on his face, I knew he was about to tell me something that was 'for my own good'.

"Maeren, you had a very rough time during the surgery. You lost much more blood than I am comfortable even admitting to you. You understand how grave your condition is, since you are a healer yourself; you also know that your life is still in danger. For that reason, Antiel is being cared for in another room, so as not to disturb your rest.

"As time goes on, I will allow you more visits with her for longer periods of time, but caring for an infant will hinder your recovery right now. You must promise me that you will do your part in helping yourself—eat and drink what I tell you, in the amounts I insist upon; rest as much as possible. If you do these things your strength will return, and I will then bring Antiel in here myself for you to care for as you will."

I do admit that my initial reaction was to tell Haldan just what he could do with his plans, but my good sense won out. I knew he was right. My heart pounded in my chest, with want of more blood to pump through my body and breathing was still not exactly easy. I could not stay awake for more than ten minutes at a time. And the weakness—it was unfathomable. I knew, as a healer myself, that extreme blood loss had to be the cause of all my ills, and I also knew, as Haldan had just told me, that there was a chance I could still die—if my heart decided it was simply too tired to continue beating.

But in spite of my willingness to do what my healer advised, I knew what I must do as a mother.

"I will follow your orders, Haldan," I could hear myself tell him, while another part of me screamed against the injustice of it all. Yet I was alive by this Elf's surgical expertise. I could not go against his directives now. That would not only be insulting to him, it would be the ultimate in my own stupidity. However, I could not let myself give up on this one argument yet.

"_But_ if am to ever be able to feed Antiel, you must allow me time to suckle my infant. I will be well in a few short weeks, but she will be needing liquid nourishment for months. If I don't at least try to feed her now, I will never produce what she needs at all. Surely you see the wisdom in what I am telling you." I was completely out of breath after so prolonged a speech, and it took me minutes to regain any semblance of normal breathing.

"Of course I see the wisdom, Maeren," Haldan said, and to his credit he tried very hard not to be patronizing. "But I must weigh your welfare against hers and reach a balance. What is best for both of you. I am sorry—I must seem like a jailer to you—but she is healthy and thriving as she is; you, however, are not. And you are vastly mistaken if you believe you will be fine in a few short weeks."

I wanted not to argue with him, but this was important to me. I tried to speak more slowly, so that I could breathe and talk at the same time.

"What is the harm of my at least trying, Haldan? We both know that I more than likely will be unsuccessful. But I must try. Do not take this from me please. I have precious little I can do at the moment—for anyone. You know how that goes completely against my nature." I had to stop to take a few good breaths. I knew this was not helping my arguments, but I had no other choice. "It will do my spirit wondrous good, if you will allow me this one basic thing—of trying to feed my own baby."

"But Maeren—" Haldan said in entreaty. I could see my arguments were not getting me anywhere. "—it is miraculous that your heart still works at all, as much blood as you have lost. I sincerely hope it is not permanently damaged by the strain it is under. No, Sweetheart. No. When you can hold Antiel without aid, that is when I will allow it."

I knew my case was lost—at least for now. He'd called me 'Sweetheart'. That was the name he reserved for me when he meant to do business whether I liked it or not.

"It will not be for as long as your fear," Haldan said with sympathy. "In the meantime, you may see her when you wish, but you must also promise to take the utmost care of yourself."

I gave in, but I could not keep my tears from falling as I told him, "I promise, Haldan. I will follow your advice. You have kept me from death thus far, and I can tell that has been no easy task."

He looked at me with sadness; an expression that spoke of how much he loved me and how hard it had been for him seeing me so near death's door.

"Maeren," he said, "there is something more I must tell you. The telling will not be easy, and I imagine the hearing will not be either."

"It was what you were about to tell me before, but something interrupted us."

"Your husband and child did the interrupting before," Haldan declared, "but they are both asleep in the rocking chair in the room we have set up as the nursery."

Not for the first—or last—time did I curse my lot of being so weak and confined to this bed. _I_ wanted to be the one rocking my baby. I wanted her here with me, so I could get to know her. Feed her. But I could not even lift her by myself right now.

Haldan got up from the chair, and then sat down on the bed beside me. His face held grim determination now, and I almost feared what he would tell me. He'd just admitted there might be problems with my heart. What other problems could there be?

"We'd delivered the baby and she was fine—beautiful pink, breathing well and crying as she should—but you took a bad turn after that. I tried everything I knew to do, but your hemorrhage was so severe—"

Haldan looked at me with his beautiful eyes, swimming in tears as they were, and I just wanted to reach out and hold him. But I was too weak. I settled for clasping his hand.

"I so feared I would lose you to death." He looked down at our joined hands, and then he gazed back at me. "I had to remove your womb, Maeren. There will be no more children for you."

I wanted to laugh. I felt mean, since Haldan was so very serious, but I wanted to laugh. I suppose it was the relief that this was not such bad news after all that had me giddy. I feared he knew for certain my heart was damaged already, and I had greatly dreaded that that was what he'd been about to tell me.

Haldan was so upset over this and I was rejoicing! Well, perhaps that is too strong a word. No woman ever wants any part of her removed, but if one ever had to go, this was not that big of a price to pay—not when Haldan was speaking about saving my very life.

"Do not ever scare me in such a way again!" I said, with a small bit of anger in my voice. "I thought you were going to tell me something dire, and all you are saying is that my womb had to go?" I took a deep breath, but when I continued, it was with a voice that must have reflected the awe that I felt. "I would have never dreamed to remove the womb, Haldan. What inspiration led you to do such a thing?" My curiosity as a healer was piqued.

"Not inspiration, Maeren," he said in a troubled voice, "more like desperation. All your blood was pumping out of you—directly from your damaged womb. There really was no other choice."

I patted his hand that I'd been gripping tightly just moments ago.

"Worry not about it, then. You actions kept me from death, and I certainly can think of no reason a womb is needed other than for the bearing of a child, and it is obvious that a woman can get along without it or I'd be dead by now. Not having more children is not such a sacrifice for me; especially Elven ones that take a full year to bring to term." I paused, as something distressful occurred to me.

"I know not what Elladan might feel about such a thing—but as a healer, I would have feared for my life had I got with child again. I've never had a woman live through such a complication as what I just have, so no one has been around to see if it was likely to recur if she were to get with child in the future. You saved my life with this, Haldan. Be sad about it not a moment longer! I am not."

Haldan closed he eyes as he took a deep breath. When he opened them again, he said, "Somehow, I knew you would make me feel better about this. I just hope that as time goes on, you do not change your mind and hate me after all."

Our attention was drawn toward the door when it opened. Elladan and Leofa, who was carrying Antiel, came in.

I smiled as my favorite people entered the room. I did not fail to notice Leofa's reaction as he saw me for the first time since Antiel's birth. He shot a glare toward first Haldan and then Elladan, but neither of them reacted at all. I knew I must look a fright, if Leofa's expression was any indication. He handed the baby to Elladan and angrily said to him, half under his breath, "You led me to believe she was hale." He then walked quickly to my bedside.

"Mother," he said, his voice full of anguish. "They told me you'd had a rough go of it, but—"

I took his hand as soon as he'd reached me. "I am fine, Leofa."

"You might as well not be lying to me, Mother," he said, his words so mature I could hardly believe this was my young son. "Anyone with eyes can see you are very ill."

"But I am getting stronger all the time, son," I said, my voice as earnest as I could make it. "I am telling you truthfully; I can stay awake for longer periods, and the pain is not nearly as severe as before."

"Pain?" he asked, and his face paled. The young boy he had been had emerged for just a few seconds, before the fourteen-year-old Leofa tucked him away again.

"Elladan and Haldan—maybe even your father—told you all that was entailed in Antiel's birth, did they not?"

"Well, mostly yes," he said uncertainly, again staring daggers at the two Elves in the room, "but I hadn't truly thought it through, Mother. I am sorry you are feeling so poorly." The concern on his face truly touched me.

"I suppose the baby has distracted me," he said as Elladan sat in the chair by the bed, holding Antiel carefully. "I would have been more concerned for your health, had I known how bad it really was." Again, he glanced pointedly at Elladan, but Elladan acted as if nothing was amiss.

Leofa's eyes found Antiel again. "I've my own real sister now. I am a big brother!"

I smiled at him. He had four half sisters in Gondor. It made my heart sing in some wicked way, that my son considered this half sister of his, which I had borne, more of a sister than any or all of Aragorn's four daughters.

"Yes, and I think you will be a wonderful big brother to Antiel."

My love of him knew no bounds. A year ago, I feared him lost to me, but now, thanks to Aragorn, he was found again.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Two weeks were gone before I could finally hold Antiel without aid. I thought my chances of feeding her had waned with the passage of so much time, but since I seemed much better, Haldan started giving me supplements—minerals and herbs—he claimed would help a nursing mother if anything could. I was skeptical, since I knew of none of these remedies. He insisted that I stuff myself whenever he brought a tray at mealtime, and I did exactly everything he told me to do. But I had to bow to Haldan's superior knowledge when, three days after Antiel was allowed to begin nursing, my milk came in abundantly.

Haldan removed the sutures he'd placed in the incision in my abdomen a little more than two weeks after the surgery. I was appalled at the long, red scar that ran from my navel to just above my pubic bone. It was very narrow and not ugly at all, I just could not believe I'd lived through such trauma. I was truly fortunate in my friends and healers.

Haldan allowed me to get up and walk to a chair—with lots of aid—the third week after Antiel's birth. Elladan and Antiel both moved into my room then. I was beginning to feel like myself, little by little, with each new freedom I was allowed. Having my baby in the room with me, as well as my husband in my bed, did wonders for my mental outlook.

Elladan was captivated by little Antiel. He held her as often as he could, and when I took over feeding her, I could tell he missed holding and rocking her as she drained the goat's milk from the skin Haldan had fashioned to feed her. But I could also tell he did not begrudge me this pleasure.

Aragorn prepared to leave as soon as it was apparent I would live through the experience after all. He'd wanted to give Leofa the time he'd need to be sure that I would be fine, before Aragorn might expect our son to leave with him and return to Gondor. I could tell Leofa was having a hard time in the leave-taking, spending as much time with Antiel and Elladan and me as he could. The evening before they were to go, Aragorn and Elrohir came to give me and Elladan one last farewell.

"I owe my life to you, Aragorn," I said, and meant every single word. "Haldan told me that had you not been here for the surgery, I would not have lived."

Aragorn smiled grimly, and traced a roughened finger along my daughter's cheek as she lay asleep in my arms. "You put us both through quite a test the day this little one came into the world. I hope it is a long while before you challenge anyone in that way again."

"It will be," I assured him.

"We leave at first light," Aragorn said to Leofa. "I trust you will be ready."

"Father," Leofa said haltingly, "would you be terribly angry with me, were I to decide to wait until Mother and Elladan come to Gondor, and then I would come with them?"

Aragorn tried to keep his expression neutral, but I could see the disappointment in his face. His words did not let on about his feelings, though. "I will not be angry at all, if that is your choice. You have my blessing to wait until then. I know it is not without sacrifice that you've made this decision. It is a wise one."

This entire trip to Imladris must have been a sacrifice for Leofa. I'd seen his face light up joyfully as he spoke about his training to sword. I am sure, during these past few weeks, he must have had wistful yearnings for being back in Gondor to resume his schooling. Elladan had told me that Elrohir and Aragorn both had been sparring with Leofa while here in Rivendell, in order that he keep his new found skills somewhat sharp. Leofa's staying behind now was probably the result of many hopes on his part, but mostly of making sure I was hale, and also to see how our new family might fit him, especially little Antiel, whom he seemed to dote on.

Something I had not thought about was to where I would return once I was strong enough to leave Rivendell. I suppose I should say 'we' now, since I was married to Elladan and we had a daughter as well as a son. Being married again would be quite an adjustment for me. I'd been widowed for almost eighteen years. Eighteen years… Where had the time gone?

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I must have drifted off to sleep, as I still had a habit of doing at times. I slowly came awake, keeping my eyes closed, just listening to the people around me. Elrohir and Leofa were still in the room, but I did not hear Aragorn. Elladan was here as well. And Celeborn had decided to join us, I was happy to see. I was lying on my side facing the direction from which the voices were drifting toward me. I cracked my eyes just enough to take in the scene through my lashes.

Leofa was in the rocking chair holding Antiel. She was asleep again. Haldan told me that Elflings Antiel's age spent most of their time sleeping, because they grew at such a rapid pace. Her brain was developing by leaps and bounds—he told me she would be speaking in sentences clearly enough to be understood by her first birthday! I was amazed, and not a little bit skeptical. You might say I was going to have to witness this phenomenon before I would be believing it.

But for now, she was very content lying on her big brother's lap. She was on her back, her head reaching almost to his knees, and he was being quite still, looking at her face intently. Elladan and Elrohir were in chairs beside him, forming a tight circle, but Celeborn was standing between the twins, with a hand on each of the backs of their chairs.

"What is this?" Leofa asked, puzzled, as he pointed toward her mouth.

Elladan leaned over and peered at where Leofa was pointing, and then he sat up again. "That's a tooth," he said.

Leofa's eyes widened in astonishment. "Teeth? She's not even a month old!"

"Since when did you know anything about babies?" Elrohir asked.

"I do have cousins, you know," Leofa said smartly. "Some of them were babies once, and I know none of them had teeth when they were this little."

"Elven babies get teeth shortly after they are born," Celeborn said. "Arwen had her full set of milk teeth well before she was a month old, wouldn't you say so, Elrohir?"

"Yes, I certainly would," Elrohir said emphatically. "And she learned how to bite very quickly after that.

I couldn't help the laughter that bubbled out of my lips at Elrohir's comment. Leofa looked at me and said, "You are awake, Mother."

I marveled at the penchant of males of every sort always seeming to feel the need to state the obvious. But I answered my son kindly.

"Yes, I am."

"She's got a tooth, Mother."

"Does she? That is truly amazing, Leo."

Leofa's eyes shot to mine, as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard, but he simply smiled his boyish smile. "Thank you, Mother."

"It is long overdue," I said sincerely, "and there is no good reason why I should fight you about it. A young man should have the right to be called exactly what he wants to be called. It will take some getting used to, but I will try to remember it, Leofa—I mean Leo," I ended, grimacing.

They all laughed at me then.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

That night, after Antiel had been fed and was sound asleep in her little cradle, Elladan and I lay talking in our bed. He was lying on his side, looking at me in the semi-darkness, since we kept a lamp turned low in case Antiel should need attention during the night. His head was resting in his hand, his elbow propped up on the pillow. His other hand lazily traced here and there. Right at the moment his fingers glanced along the neckline of my nightdress, which was cut low so that Antiel could suckle during the night.

Had I not known better, I might have thought my husband romantically inclined, but Haldan had given us each stern warnings of exactly what he would do if he even caught a hint that any such thing might be happening until I was much stronger.

"Elladan," I said, and I stopped, staring into his beautiful face, marveling for a moment at my fortune of having this most handsome Elf in my life, not to mention my bed.

"Mae?" he asked, prompting me to continue after my lapse. He smiled, as if he knew exactly what I had been thinking.

I smiled back, and then averted my eyes toward the ceiling. I needed my composure to discuss what I meant to with my husband tonight.

"We've not talked about this seriously before. I am thinking you have decided this for

yourself, and it is a foregone conclusion of yours that we—"

"—Mae," he interrupted me, smiling again. "I am getting lost in your rambling…"

"I just wonder your thoughts about where we will live when we are able to leave here."

His expression became serious. "As I've told you before, I strongly desire to live in Gondor."

"Will you even hear my reasons, if I do not agree?"

His brows came together slightly, not quite frowning. "Of course I will listen. Do I not always?"

"No, not always."

He pursed his lips, almost in a pout, but then his face turned neutral again.

"I promise to listen this time."

_Ah, so he had learned something from our little misunderstanding of before._

"I cannot imagine living in Gondor again," I said, and when I noticed he was now looking at me out of the corners of his eyes, I added, "and _not_ for the reasons you might think."

He surprised me with what he said next. I thought he would commence telling me his motivations for wanting to go to Gondor, but he asked me a question instead. "What are your reasons, then, if they are not what I am thinking they might be?"

For the longest time, I'd been telling myself I did not want to return to Gondor because I feared being found out as Leofa's mother. Although that was certainly true before, it was not true now. Yet my apprehension grew whenever I thought about going anywhere near Gondor again.

After I had ceased dreaming about the fall down the mountainside, my nights had still quite often been terrifying. I had been having frequent nightmares of that time in my life when I lived and toiled in Gondor—specifically, of the wards after the Great Battle on the Pelennor Fields. I think I might have been lying to myself all along , at least partially, concerning what it was that I truly feared about being in Gondor.

"I have lived my entire life in Rohan, except for a brief and—quite truthfully—terrible while that I did live in Gondor. I hated it there! I truly hated it..." My voice had grown louder and quite harsh as I spoke, but then it trailed off as I thought of the war we'd been through. Of the wards teeming with injured soldiers, bloodied from battle, some too young to even righteously be there, and the moans and screams of pain from the wounded. My hands were clasped together across my abdomen, and as I spoke, even though I had not been aware of it, they had tightened, and my knuckles had paled. My husband did, however, notice, and he placed his wandering hand over my two, massaging them until I consciously relaxed them.

"I suppose it would be best if I did go to Gondor and face these phantoms—those that I dream of frequently," I said, "but I want not to."

"There has been no war in Minas Tirith in almost fifteen years, Mae. The closest thing to battle you are likely to see would be two shopkeepers bidding for a buyer's coin."

I did not smile or respond to him at all. My mind was back in the wards one night, when I held a child-soldier as he died in my arms.

Elladan sensed my sadness, so he leaned over and kissed my cheek. "I had not thought about how the war affected you," he said. "I know you have nightmares about it; it must have truly been dreadful for you."

"Dreadful?" I asked, almost incredulous at the thought that the wards I had managed when the battles in and around Minas Tirith had reach their zenith had been _merely_ dreadful. "You were there, Elladan," I said, my voice rising slightly. "The night after the Great Battle had been fought all day. You and Elrohir, along with Aragorn, tended to those afflicted with what Aragorn told me was the Black Breath. There were wounded soldiers everywhere, against every wall—even on the floors. They started coming in at dawn and did not stop until well into the evening. I thanked the Valar we didn't have to resort to putting them out in the street. Soldiers disemboweled, with no hope of living, but having to endure till the end in unspeakable pain. Armor driven into wounds from being smote so hard by those Urúks that it had to go somewhere. Legs mangled from being trod upon by beasts we'd thought of only as legends. Did you not find it daunting at all? Am I just weak?"

"I was not responsible for them, Mae—you were," he said softly, in an attempt to calm me. "Of course it was daunting to everyone there, but the task of managing all the chaos was entirely upon your shoulders and you saw it done well. Daunting? No, I would more call it demoralizing for you, having to make harsh decisions because there was only one of you and so many wounded. I lament that it grieves you still—but it is small wonder that it does." He shifted the arm he'd been propping his head on until it came to rest around my shoulders, and then he drew me closer, his mouth right at my ear. "That does not make you weak. It makes you a compassionate woman. You cared for the wounded—truly cared for them. And you care for them still in the darkness of dreams. And it haunts you to this day. I promise, we will not live in Gondor, if it will cause you this much pain."

I turned to look at Elladan then, speechless by what he'd just said. I had been prepared to argue this well into tomorrow, for I had surely known he would not agree to live in Rohan.

I thought about what Elladan had said for a moment. _We could live in Rohan? _ _Relief was a breath away_.

But how was I to get beyond this fear, if I did not face it? The relief would be temporary. The dreams had been coming with more and more frequency. I could expect they would only grow worse.

I had not considered dealing with my fears before; I'd kept the problem mostly at bay by simply ignoring it. Ignoring it and running from it. But since I had talked it through with Elladan tonight, and now knowing he truly understood my feelings, I found I might be able to at least try to live in Gondor and confront that which haunted my dreams.

"I would hope that you would allow Leofa to remain in Gondor for his training," Elladan added after a moment. "He would indeed be a very unhappy boy were you to take away from him something he's truly come to love."

"I would never do that," I said. "It would be heartless of me to take the training away from Leofa now. He has grown so much since he left Edoras the last time. I think I have, too. And if I hope to grow even more, I must face that which leaves me trembling in the dark."

We were both silent for a few minutes, but then I said, "Can we agree to compromise, Elladan? I will go to Gondor with the understanding that we can visit Rohan frequently—at the very least once a year—and if I find the city of Minas Tirith unbearable, then we could go to Edoras to live?"

"I find I can make such a compromise," he said, and he was smiling once more.

We lay there in silence for several minutes, and Elladan began with his wandering hand again. He traced along my jaw line and down my throat with his fingers. He was making it hard for me to think, and there was one more thing that I truly wanted to discuss with him tonight.

"Elladan," I said, "I've also been wondering—we've not spoken about this since we've been wed, nor since Antiel has been born. I find I need to know your heart on this—"

I stopped abruptly, finding it difficult to put into words what I wanted to ask. "It truly is not my business, it's yours—"

Drat! Why was I having so much trouble speaking to him about this?

Elladan pretended to yawn, wanting me to get on with whatever it was I wanted to ask him. Laughing, I turned onto my side and slapped at his shoulder playfully.

"Behave," I said quietly, ever mindful we had Antiel in the room with us. He shielded himself with his up-drawn arms, as if I were beating him soundly, so I pretended to hit him again. He just laughed quietly. It felt so good to be here with him, and we were very at ease with one another once more. Well, perhaps we were, if I could ever find the words to ask him this question. It had been a source of strife for us for years.

"What is it you want to ask?" he finally said. "I might _die of old age_ before you get around to it." His words, especially the emphasis he gave that one phrase, as well as his one raised eyebrow, caused all the breath to suddenly leave my lungs. I felt as if I could no longer breathe.

"Then you have chosen?" I gasped. _He'd guessed what I couldn't bring myself to ask._

He chuckled lowly again and reached for me, holding me close. But he drew back and looked at me with all the love he had in his heart.

"I will not tease you anymore," he said, "since I know you think it is not a laughing matter, but yes, I have chosen. I made my choice the night of Antiel's birth, as I looked into her sweet little face."

"You feared I was dying, so you chose to remain Elfkind?" I asked hopefully.

He frowned slightly, and said, "Truthfully, the decision had less to do with how close to death you were or were not. But it did have some basis with you and your eventual death."

His voice had grown quiet, and he took one of my hands and kissed my knuckles briefly.

"Mostly my choice had to do with now being the father of an Elleth. Yes Mae, I have chosen to remain Elfkind. Though I am ever loath to think about it, there will come the day when you will leave me and Antiel through your death. And though by remaining an Elf, I run the risk of dying brokenhearted right along with you, I think with Antiel and Leofa by my side, I will come through it alive, at least. And I will be here to comfort them as well. The day will also come when Antiel must make this decision all my family has had to make. I want to be here to help guide her, though as I have found, it is truly something one must decide alone. I also could not think of leaving our daughter without either of her parents, should I choose Humanity. It was an easy choice when the choice was ready to be made, just as Arwen told me it would be."

"I was hoping such would be your decision," I said solemnly, "but not for any guilt I might have. For Antiel. She will not even be fully grown by the time I—" I stopped, for thinking of this truly left my heart desolate. "She will be so young, for an Elf, and will still need a parent, and I will be gone, perhaps long before she even nears adolescence," I finally finished.

I turned toward Elladan then, and we clung to each other, as close together as Haldan would allow us to be for now. _I felt safe from what the future would bring when he held me this way. _

Antiel stirred in her sleep, mewling softly, but settled once more. We smiled at each other, and then I kissed my husband deeply.

We were so close I could feel Elladan's body responding to mine being pressed against his. He pulled away from me slightly, but I pulled him back.

Elladan looked at me with doubt. "Are you forgetting yourself, Mae? Haldan will be—"

"—hush and kiss me, Elladan."

He looked at me doubtfully once more. "Are you very sure you are well enough, Mae?"

I didn't answer, I just kissed him again and wouldn't let him separate us with his misgivings.

Haldan would be angry with the coming dawn, if he found us out, but I'd faced his rancor before. I'd found that he was more bark than bite. And I had wasted too much time already from all my worrying over what could be, instead of paying attention to what was.

Yes, the prize would be well worth the tantrum Haldan would throw.

Well worth it…

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

I lay sated in the circle of Elladan's arms. He was sleeping, or as close to sleep as an Elf ever gets. I could look into his unfocused eyes and see nothing—no expression, no hurt, no gladness. Just eyes staring—glassy—back at me.

The first time I saw this, it sent shivers of revulsion through me. I was unused to seeing any Human stare in this way unless he was dead. Thoughts of Elladan ever leaving me in death were impossible to allow into my mind, so most of the time, I simply chose not to look at him as he walked his dream paths. Quite truthfully, the lamp was rarely lit, when we would be together as one, so I didn't usually, as a rule, witness these dead eyes of his.

I was going to have to admit one thing, though. Haldan had been right. My husband and I should not have done more than sleep in our bed tonight. I thought my heart was going to erupt from my chest at the moment when my husband gave me all the love he had in him. I was not fully recovered from Antiel's birth, even though I felt quite a bit better than I had even last week.

Chills of foreboding shivered their way down my spine, so I snuggled closer to Elladan. He wrapped his arms more tightly around me in response. I sincerely hoped Haldan's wish that my heart had not been damaged would be true, but after this experience, I truly was not so sure.

But it mattered not. Whatever the Valar had in store for me, I intended to spend every minute I could, in just this way—being held, skin to skin, by the Elf that I loved.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

**A/N: My thanks to all the reviewers who have taken the time to leave their comments. As ever, I'm extremely interested in anything good or bad a reader might have to say. This is the last chapter of ****Shades of Gray****, but there will be an epilogue posted to truly end this story very soon.**


	15. Epilogue

_Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien._

I am tired. Tired and weary, and though my spirit is still willing to go on, my body is not. I have fought the good fight and won many battles, but I'm afraid that death will win this war.

What Haldan feared fifteen years ago, after Antiel's birth, was indeed the case—my heart had been damaged when I cheated death that time—one of many battles I have fought successfully; but my heart is worn and scarred now, and will not be able to stand against the ravages of time much longer.

It hurts down to my very soul, the thought of leaving those I love behind. Leofa is twenty-nine now—a man sure and strong, with a wife and two sons of his own. But Antiel is only fifteen. How I want to remain in this world, watching her grow and mature, guiding her and loving her.

She is beautiful! Sometimes when I gaze upon her, my eyes fill, just from the sheer joy of beholding something so wondrously perfect—at least in my eyes. But I knew all along it would be a miraculous thing, were I able—even if I were completely healthy—to watch her grow into a mature young Elleth, so that makes this bitter turn not quite so bitter as it could be.

And then there's Elladan—but he's another story entirely, which I will get to eventually, I know.

He and I brought Antiel and Leofa to Gondor six months after my daughter's trying and dangerous birth. Haldan was still not convinced I was hale enough to make the trip, but since he came with us, he was able to set the pace to his liking. It was not to my husband's liking, I could tell, though he said nothing, always willing to do anything that might help me maintain my strength.

I never regained the full vitality that I once enjoyed. The riding to Gondor, which I insisted upon doing, turned out to be the wrong decision on my part. What should have only taken us a month to complete, took nearly two. The irony of it all was that I'd not wanted to be slowed by taking any sort of conveyance. If I had known my severe limitations before we started the trip, I might have reconsidered. As it was, we would ride for half a day and then rest for the other half. How I hated being what was holding us back, but what was there to do? Remain in Rivendell forever? While that prospect was very inviting in some ways, not the least of which was that Celeborn remained there, it was not a practical solution.

I did not, however, expect to move into the Citadel with the King and his family once we reached Gondor, that was for sure, but that is surely what happened. I thought we'd find a dwelling nearby, but that was not Elladan's plan. I knew it not at the time—although I know it now—but it was his concern for me that made him decide to live there. The Healing Halls were near—just out the gate into the sixth circle—which meant Haldan would be available at all times. But not only that, the King himself is an accomplished healer; I could live no safer place than right in his house, and that was Elladan's plan all along. What he told me at the time in explanation was the truth, but not the complete truth—that he ever wanted his family near, so he had not even contemplated living other than in the Citadel.

We had a suite of rooms, six in total, all to ourselves. Leofa had his own room, as did Antiel—a nursery at first—and we had our bedroom. There was also a sitting room and a bath. And Elrohir also had a room. Some might think it odd, that my brother-in-law would have his bedroom in our suite of rooms, but Elrohir was so much a part of Elladan's life, that I gave it not a second thought. Elrohir had always been—and always will be—a welcome addition to my life.

Elladan and Elrohir did much work for Aragorn, so our living in the Citadel could not in any way be considered as being funded out of the city's coffers for no work in return. The twins did as much as they could in managing things for Aragorn. Oh not the inner doings of the government, no; more so in diplomatic relations. Of course they had no power at all in Gondor, but they had helped their father many times in the political dealings associated with living in an Elven Realm. Diplomacy was their forte, and they were excellent at pre-negotiating treaties—laying the groundwork for good relations between Gondor and other realms. Elrohir was especially adept at this.

I did dislike Gondor as much as I'd feared, but I persevered. There was much speculation, especially among the ladies of the realm, wondering if I was indeed Leofa's mother, but I truly cared not, and thankfully, neither did my son. He had decided during the first year he'd trained with the Tower Guard that there would always be naysayers and gossips in his life, and he learned to live with them then.

All the whispered gossip stirred controversy at first, about the King's long-ago consort living with the King and his family, but it was ignored, for the most part, and for the other part, explained to the King's advisory council as 'water under a very old bridge'. I did worry for Arwen's sake, but she would have none of it. She, too, felt it was water under that very same old bridge. Within a short while the talk died down, and all was quiet once again. The Kingdom of Gondor was at peace, being guided by a King with a stern, yet fair hand, and all was well with the people.

With time I managed to put most of the ills of the war behind me. One of the biggest tests I put myself through was the very first time I entered the Houses of Healing. Of course I had Haldan and Elladan with me, but the effect it had on me was chilling—literally. I began to shiver and I was almost sick to my stomach. But I stayed there that time until I was calm, and returned many times—in the end completely on my own—until I could finally think about the Healing Halls without terror or guilt or sadness. I did still, on occasion, have dreams like before, but they usually had peaceful resolutions—I did not jar awake anymore, sweating and terrified.

Elladan and I had our first major quarrel—yes there was more than one—when Antiel was almost three years old. I decided she was old enough to begin learning her letters and numbers—she really was very smart—so I began to teach them to her. But she already knew them, much to my surprise. I was astounded that I'd not already caught onto this, but there was a very good reason why. _Very good, yet very unfair, to my eyes_.

I was under the impression that on most mornings, as soon as Antiel was old enough to make friendships and play in a group of children, that she was running and finding Arwen's little girls to play games and have tea parties with. They were older than Antiel, but then my daughter is half-Elven, whereas Arwen's children were conceived _after_ she had chosen Humanity, so they were fully Human. Antiel did—just as Haldan told me she would—mature at a much faster pace than the Human children of Antiel's same age, so even at two years, she played well with six-year-old Melyanna. Idril, who was ten, was not above playing with these younger two, either. But as I found out, one sunny day, this is not what Antiel had been doing on most of her mornings.

When I realized that she knew all that I was going to teach her already, I asked her where she had learned these things. I thought, perhaps, as children might do, she had been playing 'school' with Melyanna and Idril. But Antiel's large green eyes—eyes so much like my own—got wider when I questioned her about that—so I knew something was up.

"Antiel," I asked her, "If not from Idril and Melyanna, then from whom did you learn all these wonderful things?" I have to admit that I made sure my face was alight with curiosity, as was my tone, so that she would not hesitate to divulge her information to me. She might be very bright, but she was likewise very young.

"From Bergel, Mama," she said quietly, her wide-eyed expression closing down slightly as a frown clouded her face. "But it was supposed to be a secret. I was not supposed to tell you."

"And who would be telling you to keep secrets from your Mama?" I asked, innocently enough.

In a barely whispered voice, she said, "Ada. He said it was to be a surprise for you."

"Well, worry not about Ada being angry," I assured her. "He will not punish you for telling about the surprise. It is something I should have been told long ago. I am sure it was only an oversight on his part."

Elladan had been having her schooled—without my knowledge. Bergel, an Elf, had accompanied us to Gondor when we left Rivendell. I was told nothing of his reasons; I simply assumed it was because he wanted a change of scenery, as it were. However, that proved to _not_ be the case, and the result was that poor little Antiel was caught in the middle between her Ada and Mama. Bergel had come with us specifically to teach her, and I had known nothing about it. Was I angry? _You had just better know that I was._

So later that night, when Elladan had gotten tired enough of my silence all evening, he asked me what exactly had me in such a snit. Just like that. Those were his exact words. I had a feeling he'd already been talking to Antiel, so he would not be surprised by my answer.

So I told my husband, whom I dearly loved, that I would leave him if he ever thought to contemplate telling either of my own children to lie to me again.

I caught him off guard! He'd not spoken to Antiel about spilling their little secret. I almost laughed when his face so mimicked our daughter's face of earlier. _But I was too angry._

I asked him—loudly—whatever possessed him to keep this from me, much less advise Antiel not to tell me either. Why had he thought to employ a teacher in the first place?

His expression turned to one of uneasiness. _That was certainly unexpected, since Elladan always thought he knew best. _

"I am sorry, Mae," he said contritely. And I could tell he really did mean it. "Antiel is Elfkind, and as such, she's advanced much further than you would know. I meant no harm, nor to tread upon your toes, but she needed a true teacher, not just her mother teaching her letters. I am sorry, I did not know how to tell you; I hoped to spare your feelings."

"So tell me, Elladan," I said, "exactly how far advanced is she? I know she has learned her basics—her letters and numbers up to ten."

"She can do sums and multipliers, up to one hundred, and she knows the letters and symbols of both Sindarin and Westron," he said, looking decidedly uncomfortable. "It is nothing for an Elf child to be this far schooled at her age."

Well now the wind was truly gone from my sails. My ship was sinking, I was feeling so low. I suppose he had a point, in keeping this a secret, if this was my reaction, did he not? Yet no, that was not excuse enough.

"Well, you are right; it does take something from me that cannot be replaced, since I will not be able to teach these basic things to my daughter. But more to the point, you had no right to make these decisions without me. Is there anything else you have been keeping from me and telling her to lie to me about?"

He assured me there was nothing else, and he promised upon his very life to never encourage falseness in our daughter again for any reason.

I could see I had much to learn about Elves and how they grew and matured and learned. But it was quite obvious now that my daughter did not need me as much as a two-year-old Human child would have. What Elladan had been too kind to say was that my daughter was already much smarter than I would ever hope to be. That was what he had been shielding me from.

This realization filled me with despair. I had counted on her needing my company for years yet, but it was obvious that she did not. She needed her mother for guidance, but she did not have any use for me as a teacher of facts or figures. Life—that is what she needed me to teach her about, and I was more than ready to do that. But right now, she truly was too young for me to teach her much along those lines.

This realization led, however inadvertently, to the second big quarrel of our married life.

Not long after this incident, I was truly at loose ends, since I had no lessons to plan for Antiel, much less the teaching of her. Arwen had her life exactly as she wanted it, and I was loath to intrude upon that, even though she invited me to endlessly. I was truly not called to be a woman of social importance, as Arwen was. I decided I should go back to work at the Houses of Healing. After all, healing was my true calling.

So one morning when everyone else was about their business, I took myself to the wards to volunteer my service. The warden, much to my surprise, was one of the aids I had employed when I was Warden in these self-same halls. _Ioreth was long gone, thanks be!_ This lady, named Kiril, was younger than I by a good ten years, and had been one of the aids I'd so impressed when I was faced with a dying boy's gasping breaths, and I chose to cut a hole in his throat allowing him to breathe freely once more. At the time I felt as if I had no choice, unless it would be just standing and watching him die; but I truly had no stomach for that, so I did this drastic and unheard of thing. It had been Kiril who had approached me afterward, offering her help and cooperation, whenever I would need either or both.

When she recognized me, Kiril hugged me as if we were long lost friends. After we'd spoken for several minutes, I told her that I'd been the Warden in Edoras' Healing Halls in the past, for at least five years. She was a fairly new appointee, since our dearly departed Ioreth—yes, she'd finally dropped dead—had left the position vacant only last year. Kiril offered that perhaps she should step down from her post in order that I be Warden here again, since I was much more experienced. I had to talk long, but I finally convinced her that I was sure she was more than capable at her job, and I had not the time or the health for such an endeavor, though it did my heart good to be recognized in such a thoughtful way.

I had learned my limits, as far as my health goes, while we traveled to Gondor, and during the year and a half we'd spent here already. I had fainting spells when I would overdo, so I learned to be aware of my body and how I reacted at any given time. If I felt the least bit faint, or if my breathing grew labored at all, I knew it was time to rest, even if that meant I'd only be on my feet for fifteen minutes at a time. I told the Warden this, as well as the fact that I'd only be able to work at the most three days per week, and she agreed. I was truly happy for the first time since I'd come back to Gondor. I rolled up my sleeves and got to work right then.

But that night, when I spread the glad tidings at the evening meal with everyone present, I thought Elladan was going to explode. His anger was quiet, but I could see it in the set of his jaw and his sudden silent scowl, though he said nothing. Nothing, that is, until we reached the confines of our suite of rooms.

"I forbid it, Maeren," he said with finality, when Antiel and Leofa were in their own rooms for the night. We'd gone to the sitting room, and since it was autumn, a fire was crackling in the grate. I stared at the flames while he made his demand, and what had been a merry fire before, suddenly looked like an inferno to my eyes.

"_What_?" I asked him, astounded by the phrase he'd used. "You did not just say the word _forbid_ to me, did you?"

"I did," he returned, "and I mean for you to obey it!"

I suppose my jaw must have dropped clear to the floor, but I said nothing. I was too angry, and I knew I would say something that I might deeply regret. I simply closed my mouth and retreated to our bedroom.

And I said not a word to him for the next four days, while I continued to work at my scheduled times at the Houses of Healing, as I had agreed to with Kiril.

Finally, on the evening of the fourth day of my silence, he confronted me in our sitting room again.

"Maeren," he said. He always called me my full name when he was not happy with me. "Please—could we please talk about this?"

"I was under the impression there was nothing to talk about," I replied easily, as if I had _not _been giving him silence beyond his endurance for the few days prior. "_Forbid_ is such a final word, that I thought that was exactly what it was—your final word to me, for I refuse to converse with anyone who would order me about in such a way!"

"Do not upset yourself, Mae," he said, and the look on his face was one of such concern, it made me pause, but not for long. He then said, "I am prepared to talk—not order—tonight."

"I suppose I should say 'thanks be!' for that, but I will not," I said nastily, and I did not calm down, as he'd advised me to. "I thought it to be understood between us that you would never think of _ordering_ me to do anything."

Drat. I began breathing more heavily than I should have done, even as upset as I was. I was sorely tired of these physical limitations my heart burdened me with. _I could not even have a good rant without being watchful of it!_

Elladan stood in silence now, vigilant over my condition. He'd become quite the mother hen ever since Haldan had given us the dreaded news that my heart would never be strong again. And thinking of this made me suddenly understand his objection to my working now.

"Elladan," I said plaintively, as I sat down beside him on the couch. "I am fine. I know when I should take care, and when I am able to do things, and I know the things I can do and those I cannot. Please do not worry over me so."

"I have to, Maeren," he said, louder than was necessary, and he got up from his seat. "If I do not, then who will? Even though you say you watch your activity for yourself, I know you do not—at least not to my satisfaction."

"I will never satisfy you then," I said in resignation, and I rose as well, "but I cannot live like this. You would not stand for having someone hover over you, were our positions exchanged."

"Our positions could never _be_ exchanged," he said, nasty himself by now.

I truly hated it when he stooped to using his Elven heritage on me. We did not fight often, and rarely this heatedly, but it was a dirty way to fight, and I did not appreciate it at all.

"And why do you feel the necessity to remind me that I am but a lesser Human, Elladan? That even my own two-year-old daughter is of more quality than me?"

His face fell slightly with the shame he felt at implying such a thing, but he said nothing. At that moment the door opened and Elrohir entered the room.

"We are having a private discussion in here," Elladan said harshly, as his only acknowledgment of his brother.

"It is not so private," Elrohir said evenly in reply. "I could hear everything plainly already, so I decided I might as well come in here and be the mediator between the two of you."

"We need no such thing. Go away Elrohir!" Elladan's expression grew harder and his anger intensified, more so than the situation called for, I thought.

"You do need it," Elrohir assured his twin. "If someone does not step between the two of you, you could possibly ruin the best thing that has ever happened to you, Brother. I would not see you do that."

"I do not need your meddling, Elrohir!"

"You do need it," Elrohir calmly repeated. "Do not make the same mistake twice, by refusing to hear what Maeren is telling you again."

I cringed as Elladan strode toward Elrohir, stopping just short of colliding with his twin. I have seen Elladan angry before—very angry—but he was completely enraged this time.

"I need not you _or anyone_ to tell me what I need to hear, especially as it concerns my wife," Elladan said precisely, his jaw clenched so tightly, one would wonder if words would be able to squeeze past his teeth at all.

"You do need it," Elrohir said yet again, and quietly, too, "or I would not be here." I wondered at either his bravery or perhaps his stupidity in continuing in the same vein as before.

I wanted to flee. I hated seeing them at odds, and the only times I ever had, had been because of me.

Elladan's eyes flinched then, as if it were with great effort that he held himself back from physically attacking Elrohir. And as he stood there glaring at his brother, I could see, little by little, the tension seep out of him. Moments passed slowly as I watched my husband's face relax by the smallest of measures at a time.

"Then tell me, Elrohir," Elladan finally said. He was calmer by far, but still very upset. "How am I supposed to watch as she kills herself before my very eyes?"

"You will have to watch her do what she will," Elrohir said. "She wants to be free to make her own choices, as any adult needs to, Brother. I know you would protect her, if you could, but that is impossible this time. There is nothing to protect her from. When she needs you, you will be right here to help ease her. That is all you can do."

They spoke as if they'd forgotten I was even in the room.

Elladan walked back to the couch and sat abruptly, and Elrohir went to him, squatting beside his twin.

"I don't know if I can do this, Elrohir," Elladan said in the most defeated and exhausted voice I have ever heard him use. And I knew he was not speaking about watching me as I did whatever I would do. He was talking about watching me die, little by little. My heart clenched in pain for my husband. I knew how I would feel, were it me watching him leave me by degrees, no matter how much he did not want to—as I did not want to leave him.

I hurried to Elladan and sat beside him, taking his hand into the two of mine. He closed his eyes and wrapped his large hand around my small ones, holding them so tightly I thought they might break.

Suddenly Elrohir's hand appeared atop ours.

"Maeren," Elrohir said, his voice very solemn, "I know you are loath to leave, but this is something best handled by me."

I nodded my head, not trusting my voice to speak aloud. Tears were a breath away, and I would not add to my husband's burden with them. I rose and went to my bedroom, and lying upon the bed, I thought about what I had just witnessed, as my tears started unbidden.

Elladan had told me, the morning that Antiel was born, that I knew not the depth of his love for me. And as I'd watched his face go from an angry one to one so beset with anguish that it hurt my very soul, I knew he'd been completely right. As Haldan had told me the night I'd quarreled before with Elladan, Elves had heightened senses and emotions as well. I knew now that included all their emotions, not just anger, hurt or sadness. It included love and devotion.

As a Human, I could try to understand the depth of his love, but when it came right down to the heart of the matter, I could not ease my husband as well as his brother could, because I did not understand the enormity of his pain.

It was no wonder Elves died of heartbreak! They kept themselves under rigid control; they had to, or the tumult of it all would send them into lunacy.

Elladan did not come to bed that night, and he was gone when I emerged from my room sleepless at dawn the next day. I did not go to the Healing Halls, even though I was scheduled to. I knew Kiril would understand. I told her I took sick easily and often, so she would simply think I was feeling poorly. And I was. I certainly was. I was not ill, but I was sick at heart.

I went through the motions of that day, with Antiel, and I even visited with Arwen. I think Elrohir must have told her that Elladan and I had been quarreling, because she was much more subdued than usual. I parted company with everyone after evening meal, with Elladan's place at the table as empty as my soul.

I got Antiel to bed and then went to mine. I was sorely exhausted, but sleep still would not come. I lay there, crying, for an hour or more when the door softly opened and Elladan came into the room. He crept silently through the darkness, removing his clothes, and he got quietly into the bed. As soon as he was still, and it was apparent he thought I was sleeping, and was not going to say anything to me, I decided to break this awful silence between us.

"Elladan," I said, "I love you."

He turned to me then, and took me into his arms, pulling me close.

"I love _you_," he whispered.

"I am sorry I've done this," I said. "I will not do it again. Worry not; I will stay here during the days. The Healing Halls will get along fine without me there." I was not trying to be sullen, or make him feel sorry for me. I truly saw the depth of his pain—as much of it as I could see—and I would no longer put him through this anguish.

"It is I who need to apologize, Mae," he said. "I have no right to try and keep you locked away, even with good intentions. I want to keep you safe, but there's nothing I can protect you from. Elrohir made me see. And he is completely right."

We loved each other then, quietly and gently, but so tenderly it made me weep.

We never mentioned this incident again. He did lapse every now and then, hovering over me till I wanted to scream.

But I did not scream, I gently told him I was watching myself closely, because I knew how much it meant to him.

I did go back to the Houses of Healing, but only if Haldan was there, and only for two days a week. Apparently Elrohir had also made my husband see that I needed to be in a place where healing was being done almost as much as I needed to breathe.

_Thanks be for Elrohir…_

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Antiel, my sweet, beautiful daughter. I loved her with all my heart—and she loved me, too—but when she was a young child, I was at a loss as to how to relate to her. She was wise beyond her years. It seemed as if advice I would give, she would have already thought of on her own. A very frustrating turn of affairs for a mother needing to nurture a six-year-old, but the child not needing much nurturing at all.

She reminded me much of Arwen, to be truthful, but she had an air about her that also reminded me of my mother on occasion. Many times I wished our relationship could be closer.

I'd lost my mother when I was thirteen. At the time, Lord Keodwen said it appeared as if her heart had given out, so I asked Haldan, when he'd given Elladan and me the news of my ill health, if perhaps this condition had been waiting silently to claim me all along. I had not thought about it until I was faced with the problem myself. He said he truly knew not, and that it could solely have been the fault of the extreme loss of blood that had rendered my heart ill.

But Haldan's vigilance over my health is what has kept me going all these years. Whether it was a problem I was born with or not, at least it would not sneak up on me, and snatch me from my loved one's arms as had happened with my own mother. We could prepare, if one could ever prepare for such a thing.

When Antiel was ten, she chanced into the Halls of Healing one day when Kiril was out and I was there alone. A woman was brought in with a high fever and a raging cough. I hesitated even touching her, fearing I might contract her illness, for it truly could be the death of me. But Kiril was gone on another errand, and Haldan was at someone's home delivering a baby, so it was me or no one to care for this poor, feverish woman.

I quickly enlisted Antiel's aid in getting the woman settled into a bed, and then I had her begin sponging the lady's fevered limbs. In the meantime, I took myself to the herb cabinet, where I found the ingredients I'd need for a plaster for the woman's chest. I put water on to boil, to make a feverfew tea to bring down her temperature. While I waited for the water to heat, I made up the plaster, getting all the dry ingredients ground finely with a mortar and pestle, and then stirred together in wait for the hot water to make the paste.

When I had it all ready, I took it to the woman's bed, and I spread the plaster upon the lady's chest while Antiel watched. Then I helped the woman drink the tea, in which I had also placed honey to soothe her throat from all the coughing she had been doing. When the woman was finally resting more comfortably, I took Antiel to a basin and we washed our hands.

"Mama," Antiel said, "is this what a healer does every day?"

"Oh, sometimes this," I replied, "and sometimes other things. When people break a bone, it must be set, and a healer can do that. Or someone might be working and cut themselves, then they might need to be stitched, so that is also one of a healer's duties. Babies need to get born—that's where Haldan is today. Burns, at times, must be tended. But yes, most of the time a person comes in sick, and we must decide exactly what is wrong and what we will do about it."

As I spoke, I noticed Antiel's rapt attention, soaking in every word I said.

"Will you teach me, Mama?" she asked, and her interest was so keen, I could not tell her no, even had I thought to, which I did not.

And thus, our closer relationship bloomed. From that time on, when she was not otherwise occupied with Bergel's lessons, she came to me, whether I was actually in the Houses of Healing or not, and I would teach her all I knew of the healing arts. We tended the herb gardens, and there I showed her exactly how to grow the plants, as well as how to harvest and dry them, and then how to prepare whatever remedies we would need for any particular ill.

Of course, she was a natural healer. How could she not be? With me as a mother and Elrond as her grandfather, it had only been a matter of time. I wondered at myself for not thinking of introducing it to her before.

So from then on, whenever I would work in the Healing Halls, she would meet me there after her lessons with Bergel. And we would work side by side, teacher and student, mother and daughter.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

My health was very consistent for many years, until this last one, when I noticed I could not do now that which I'd been able to do before. But I am fifty-seven, and feeling ninety-seven for sure. I feel ancient physically, but in my mind, I could still be fifteen, just like my daughter. Of course I know all the lessons my life has taught me so far, so I would be an informed fifteen.

When I look into the mirror each day, I wonder where the young Maeren has gone. It seems as if I blinked my eyes and all of a sudden this old woman was looking back at me. I say 'old woman', but I've been very fortunate in how I look, since my husband resembles a man not over thirty! My skin has always been good, although I've not taken particular care about it. So while I have a few wrinkles around my nose and mouth, I am not wizened by any means. My hair is still mostly its same red-blonde, but it does have silver streaking through it here and there. Still, as I hold my husband's arm as we walk down the street with our daughter, I'm sure people who do not know us think I might be his mother and Antiel's grandmother. But at least I am fortunate that they would not think me _his_ grandmother!

It is a strange phenomenon, being married to an Elf. The older I have gotten, the more mature Elladan seems. It is almost as if he has held himself back all these years—intellectually—waiting for me to catch up in that way. I've not asked him, since I truly do not want to know. He loves me as if my body and face have not changed in the least. And I of course love him the same way I always have.

It is with bittersweet humor that I say this next thing. I finally understood what Haldan was so upset about when he told me right after Antiel's birth that he'd had to remove my womb, and that as a result I would have no more children. He even said that he feared I might hate him! I thought he was worried that I might want more babies, but I found out, perhaps two years after our move to Gondor, that that was not what worried him at all.

It seems that married Elves no longer seek the pleasures of the flesh once they deem their families complete. When I realized that I reached for my husband many more times than he was reaching for me, I became dismayed—I thought I was already aged to his eyes, and he was not attracted to me in that way anymore. Or perhaps he feared for my health—but I told him outright one night that it helped my health to be so close to him.

When I could finally stand it no longer, I confronted him. How it embarrassed me to bring the subject up, but I needed the truth—even if it would cut me to the bone to know it.

He did not hem or haw or seem embarrassed at all as he told me his interest in that area of his life had waned, and why it had. He was fully Elfkind now, after having made his choice, so to him this was the natural way of things. Laughing, he took me into his arms, promising he would love me well whenever I would wish for him to, but that I would have to remind him, because it was not something on his mind at all.

I finally understood how Elrond could remain so calm and collected after Celebrian had sailed West. Married Elves with complete families just didn't have the drive any longer. He missed her terribly, that was always apparent, but he didn't have that fidgety, nervous energy male animals of every sort get when they want a female so badly it seems as if any female would do.

So this was the price I paid for marrying an Elf and no longer being able to conceive. Haldan had attended women from the Dúnedain settlement that were older than I was at the time I'd had Antiel, whom he had cared for as they had their seventh or eighth child. He knew Humans kept their interest, or no babies would be born to older mothers. So it was no wonder he'd thought I might come to regret his actions, since he'd been forced to remove my womb. He knew my husband would no longer be interested in matters of the bedroom after such a final end to my childbearing days.

But hate Haldan? _Well…_

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Tonight finds me and Elladan and Elrohir in the sitting room, after the evening meal with the entire family. The twins are drinking from a bottle of Old Winyards from the Southfarthing of the Shire, a very potent red wine made by the Hobbits themselves. I am working on a bottle of Miruvor. It is the self-same drink I was offered here in the Citadel one evening, years ago by Arwen, on the occasion of our delicate discussion of the fact that Aragorn and I were to become parents. I knew not what Miruvor was then, I was just grateful it did not turn out to be some sort of poison. Were I in Arwen's shoes at the time, I might have considered using such a thing, if a woman had thought to intrude on my marriage in such a devastating way.

But Miruvor is far from poison, as I found out on my first visit to Imladris. Yes, it is a fermented drink, but it also has healing qualities as well. It is meant to be sipped, and tonight I had been sipping, but I'd been at it for an hour or more, ever since Antiel had gone to her room for the night. I've never been much of a drinker of spirits, so it didn't surprise me when I began to feel just a wee bit tipsy.

One of its more important qualities is its ability to shore up the most flagging of spirits, and tonight I think we all might have been in need of such shoring up, especially me. My health was declining more every day, and I'd found out tonight at the evening meal—accidentally—that Haldan had sent a messenger off to my brothers in Rohan, advising they make their yearly visit sooner rather than later.

Aragorn had inadvertently asked Haldan if his messenger to Rohan had been dispatched. The look on Haldan's face told me everything I needed to know. I just wished he'd told me himself. But of course, I knew why he had not—he was trying to spare my feelings.

My brothers, even Saedren, came to visit me every year, since I was in no health to be riding such long distances. That had become apparent with my ride to Gondor, so I had not seen Rohan since I'd last left, before Antiel's birth, all those years ago. And when Saedren learned that I had all but died in my last bid to become a mother, and had been left in very ill health as a result, he realized that I had not been at fault for Aundra's death. How my heart soared when I saw Saedren riding with my other three brothers into the gate of the seventh circle for the first time.

But Haldan had never summoned them before now.

"Where is Haldan?" I asked. "I feel as if someone is missing." Were my words slurring? _Impossible!_

Elrohir bent to fill our glasses again. "Haldan is bound to be where he always is—either with you or in the Healing Halls," he answered directly to me. "And since he is not here with you…"

"Let's hope he stays there, wherever he is," Elladan said bluntly. I had never understood the animosity there was between my husband and my healer, but I refused to ask right now. I was in too good a mood.

"You know you do not mean that, _Elf Boy,_" Elrohir said, then he laughed. He sloshed the contents of his glass in a circular motion, then took a whiff of it, for some reason. I would have thought he had smelled wine plenty of times in his millions of years on this earth. _No, make that thousands of years… How many glasses of this drink have I had?_

Elladan's eyebrows rose menacingly at Elrohir's snide use of Haldan's pet name for him, but he simply held his glass aloft again—another toast, I suppose. We'd already had six before this one.

"To whoever of the Valar is responsible for deciding that Elves live eternally and Humans do not—may he—or she—die of some dreadful rot of the brain!"

"Hear, Hear!" Elrohir exclaimed, laughing as he clinked his glass against his brother's. I was a little afraid of invoking Them in such a way, since we never did really know how we came to be blessed with Antiel. Who knew what else They might be capable of? But to not seem a spoilsport, I clinked my glass against the two of theirs.

We grew quiet then, the tone of Elladan's last toast settling about us like so many crows, alighting to pick at a pile of bones. But I was not dead yet, and with any luck, I might still live some years yet. I thought that probably was not the case, since Haldan had sent messengers out to Rohan, gathering my brothers to come for a final visit to their dying sister.

Of course Haldan had told me no such thing. When we exchanged glances at the table this evening, I could read the apology right on his face, but he was ever hopeful. Very rarely I would find myself disheartened by my failing health, but he would not allow me to stay in a low mood, telling me I had '_too much to live for and too little time to be swimming in a sea of self indulgent melancholy_'. So very like Haldan. And he was always right about that.

Elladan's spirits had fallen, it was obvious. I placed my hand on his wrist and said, "Husband, do not turn our party into a wake."

He turned a penetrating gaze on me, and for a moment, I thought I might have made him angry. But his eyes softened as he looked at me, and then he placed one of his hands on mine, caressing the back of it, as he said, "It is as you wish, Mae. If you are happy, then I am happy." And he gave me his most winning smile—a true, heartfelt smile.

"And I am happy!" I acknowledged to him. "I have a wonderful husband, a true friend of a brother-in-law, two fantastic children," I stopped for a second before I added, "—one isn't a child anymore, but who cares?" I threw my arms out wide to the world, happy in this moment.

I pulled Elladan to me and kissed him soundly. We both laughed as we parted.

I picked up my glass, still half-full of Miruvor, and said, "To Elves! They are immortal, lovely people," then looking at Elrohir, I added, "some of them the best of friends." I then gazed only at Elladan, and I said, "one of whom is the best of lovers and husbands." Looking back to include Elrohir, I finished, hoisting my glass higher, "Remember Maeren always, for she loved her life and she loved her Elves!"

Our glasses clinked together, ringing clearly in the night, and we drank deep.

The End

**A/N: 1) Thank you to all reviewers! You are the wellspring of a writer's heart! 2) Now it is known why I could never bring myself to write a romance between an elf and a human—the outcome can be so very sad. I so did not want this to end in a sad way, that I might have overdone the happiness—but that's just me, I guess.  
**


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